


The $64,000 Conundrum

by Fernedakki



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Drama, Drunk Sex, Enemy Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Infidelity, Liverpool F.C., M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutually Unrequited, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-21 01:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 95,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3672603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fernedakki/pseuds/Fernedakki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you know what love is? Why do humans fall in love? Do we all have a 'soul mate' waiting for us? What does it take for one to love another? Does 'love at first sight' really exist?</p><p>David Beckham will court Victoria Adams with Iker Casillas' help. Gerard Piqué will conduct an experiment because he has this bullshit love theory about dogs. Fernando Torres loves piano and hates Daniel Agger. And Xabi Alonso has this penchant of solving every mystery in the world.</p><p>Their journeys through the teenage years will lead you to the discovery of the biggest conundrum in the universe, and back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally written in 2013. It is an un-beta'ed work.

**A:** How were the Egyptian pyramids built?

 **B:** It started with the ancient Egyptians cutting sandstone, limestone or granites using copper chisel or dolerite pounders, according to the hardness of the stone. Granite blocks might require up to 60-70 men to pound the stone out. The method is, they rammed wooden pegs into slots they’d cut at the bottom and filled them with water. The pegs would expand, splitting the stone, and the block was then slid down onto a waiting boat.

Teams of oxen or men were used to drag the stones on a prepared slipway lubricated with oil. Once the stones were at the construction site, ramps were built to get them into place on the pyramid. These ramps were made of mud brick and coated with chips of plaster to harden the surface. And if they consistently raised the ramp course by course as the teams dragged their blocks up, they could have gotten them into place fairly easily.

 **A:** Where did humans come from?

 **C:** By leaving the Genesis out of account and considering only Darwin's evolutionary theory, the Oparin-Haldane hypothesis suggests that the atmosphere of the early earth might have been chemically reducing in nature: composed primarily of methane, ammonia, water, hydrogen sulfide, carbon dioxide or monoxide, and phosphate. In such a reducing atmosphere, electrical activity can catalyze the creation of certain basic small molecules of life such as amino acids, which then leads to the formation of proteins and nucleic acids, including RNA and DNA. These three are the most important biological macromolecules where they functions in encoding, transmitting and expressing genetic information.

By further transformation, the basic molecules, or monomers, had developed into more complex organic molecules, called polymers, then protocell which can metabolize, grow, mutate, reproduce, and die. From that, single-celled microorganisms grew in the primordial soup of early earth and through the course of four billion years, substantially evolved and diverged to millions of species of animals, plants and insects. About two million years ago, Homo Gautengensis evolved in the Hominidae, aka the Great Apes family, which diverged from the Hylobatidae or the Gibbon family, which diverged from thousands of families before which was by origin derivative of the Last Universal Ancestor: the single-celled organism. Homo Gautengensis then evolved on their own in genus Homo to many species until eventually became Homo Sapiens, the modern humans, at about 250,000 years ago.

 **A:** How was the world created?

 **D:** There're so many theories about how the earth was created, I'll refer to the Big Bang Theory which is the most widely accepted. According to this theory, the universe began by expanding from an infinitesimal volume with extremely high density and temperature, it was initially significantly smaller than even a pore on our skin. With the Big Bang, occurred approximately 13.75 billion years ago, which is thus considered the age of the universe, the fabric of space itself began expanding like the surface of an inflating balloon, matter simply rode along the stretching space like dust on a balloon's surface. The Big Bang isn't like an explosion of matter in otherwise empty space, rather, space itself began with the Big Bang and carried matter with it as it expanded.

After the Big Bang, The first element produced was hydrogen along with traces of helium and lithium. Giant clouds of these primordial elements would coalesce through gravity to form stars and galaxies, including our world, and the heavier elements would be synthesized either within stars or during supernovae.

 **A:** All right, last question: do you know what love is?

 **B, C, D:** What?!

 **A:** You heard me. What is love?

 **D:** What kind of question is that?!

 **A:** This is serious. Answer it like you answered previous questions. Does anybody know what love is?

The room fell silent. Nobody answered, they all looked at one another, to find blankness and question marks resembling the one on their own faces.

 **A:** You understand how pyramids were built, where humans came from, even how the world was created. But no one understands love, what love is, why everybody needs love, why some people have even gone crazy because of love.

Everyone turned to look at one another as if to question how come no one really couldn't answer this. Then someone said uncertainly,

 **C:** I...wanna know, too, why do humans fall in love? Does this thing called 'love' exist in the realm of animals as well as human’s?

 **B:** I wanna know, too,

B blurted out,

 **B:** That do we all really have a significant other called 'soul mate' awaiting for us somewhere in this world, someone who's like our missing puzzle piece that would click with us effortlessly? And there's this...could my soul mate be the same gender as me?

B's cheeks reddened.

 **D:** Well, well, well, are you sure you're talking about 'clicking’ with you in that sense, mate?

D snickered and B was further embarrassed, but the other dropped it in no time.

 **D:** Speaking of which, I wonder what does it take for one to love another, is it 'chemistry', or 'destiny'? Whether the things called both 'chemistry' and 'destiny' are real. Does 'love at first sight' really exist? And if it does, then is it the product of chemistry or destiny, or both?

 **A:** Whom are you shooting those esoteric questions at?

A chuckled.

 **A:** Of course I couldn't answer any of your questions. I don't know any correct answer of them. One shall know love once one encounters it oneself. Love is a journey, and what you discover from your journey might be unique and totally different from what I learn from mine, which I, too, have never experienced. But mark my words, with love, anything, everything is possible. Love is a gift, is a miracle, is the most beautiful thing on earth...,

...And is the universe's biggest mystery of all.

***

Iker Casillas was so energetic.

But David Beckham was so fucking bored.

It's not that he didn't know it would be THIS boring, David knew because he'd done this innumerable times: trailing along after Iker halls after halls, looking at something he would never ever decipher in this life: arts.

What's so interesting about these paintings anyway? Why do some people, like Iker, find those drawings intriguing? How could someone decode meaning of these abstract designs, if they have any significations behind at all?

And why the fuck is he here, exactly, after Iker in this kind of museums in a corner of Madrid over and over again?

He's bored, but he's not done with it yet. No. As long as there's Iker, even a long walk through hell would be bearable.

Well, not when he's hungry, anyway.

"Let's go to Las Especias," he blurted out, his stomach grumbled as he said.

Iker raised his brow. "I thought you said you had to get home early today."

"Did I say that?" It's David's turn to raise his brow.

"Never mind then," Iker dismissed and kept strolling along the hall.

"Hey, you'll go to Las Especias with me, yeah?" David wouldn't stop nagging, he'd always keep on badgering until he got what he wanted. And there's never once that the Spaniard could resist the Londoner's request, though he'd never quite figured out why.

"Sure," Iker mumbled, didn't tear his eyes away from the drawing he's scrutinizing. "Where the hell is it anyway?" Its name was in no way familiar.

"I'll show you." David smiled cheekily, suddenly enthusiastic, so contrary to a minute before. "Victoria said she always went there after school. So maybe if we're lucky, we'd find her." You could even imagine David wagging his tail zealously now.

"'We'?" Iker snorted but he’s still good-humored. "If that's all for why you wanna go there, you wouldn't need me."

"Why wouldn't I need you?" The English smirked, hooking his arm around Iker's neck. The motion seemed casual but it implicitly forced the Spaniard to walk out of the hall, and eventually the museum, with him. "Wouldn’t I look like a stalker if I just sit there and stare at her? No, no, no, I'll need some companies to pretend to be chatting with while I'm actually stalking her, dude."

***

Cesc Fàbregas was really tempted to kill Gerard Piqué.

They're at a pet shop. It's Gerard's idea that wanted a puppy as a very advanced Christmas present for himself. It's always his dream to have a Chihuahua (for Christ's sake, a Chihuahua!), and now he was badgering Cesc to do the same.

As you wish, so all he had to do was kill Gery, then his mom would definitely kill him for bringing home a mutt. That, they would be the same: both fucking dead.

"Come on, Cesc." Gerard was holding two minikin Chihuahuas in his arms, he just too-indulgently fell in love with them. They both were too energetic, the kind that leaped at one another all the time, and his asshole friend just wanted to have them both.

He needed Cesc's help because his mom only allowed him to buy one puppy. Like hell, his mom only allowed him to buy dead animals for food today, not a living one, no matter how tiny, that requires food for itself.

"Cesc, don't you pity them if they have to be apart, see?" He asked as one of them struggled in his arm to bite the other's ear. And now they're starting a mini-brawl in Gerard's embrace.

They're so cute together indeed.

But he pitied himself more.

"You just buy them both," Cesc concluded. Gerard bared his teeth.

"Mama would absolutely mince me with her cleaver."

"And my mama would grill me medium-rare and give my parts to the Chihuahua so she doesn't have to pay for its meals for a week. I always know she's quite creative when it comes to cooking. By the way, is it him or her?"

"Him." Gerard's face fell. "Both."

"That's good." Cesc's voice faded a bit. He didn't like when Gerard made that somber face.

Gerard put the two puppies down. "Okay, we'll have to decide which one to take then." Once they're put down on the floor, the two started chasing each other around. "Which one do you like, Cesc?" The taller boy asked in a sorrowful voice. "Pick one and I'll take him."

Um, Cesc pursed his lips. Pray tell why do you have to make me feel guilty? And why do you have to keep making that inconsolable face?

It breaks my heart, you fuckwit.

"I'll get that one, you get the other." Cesc sighed, pointing at a puppy who'd been chased by the other slightly bigger one. This one was the smaller of the two so he thought it suited him better.

"Okay, so I...what?!" Gerard, about to scoop the puppy up, stopped short, staring at his friend nonplussed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that…," Cesc suppressed a smile as he detected a gleam of hope in Gerard's eyes. "I'll get that one, so you get the other."

"Cescy!" Shouting animatedly, Gerard wrapped his smaller-sized friend in his arms with all his might. "Cesc, I love you!"

Cesc suffocated. "I know, and let me go, dickhead. I can't breathe!"

***

Fernando Torres really didn't like this idea.

It would be a month that his parents would be away, to a grand tour in Egypt and the likes in North Africa for their second honeymoon trip. And there’s this adjacent residence whose were his parents' close friends, of course since they'd been living next to each other for almost twenty years. And because his mother and the mistress of that house had nothing to do rather than housework, shopping and playing cards, you could also imagine them gossiping all day long, just like in Desperate Housewives. So, yeah, they're close, in a way.

His older brother and sister were in universities so they didn't have to face this. They're sleeping comfily in their dorms somewhere in downtown Madrid, leaving their little brother all alone here. Since the point was, his parents stated that underage boy like HIM couldn't live all alone in this big house - his OWN house - for a whole month. He's already fifteen, for Christ's sake! Anyway, their best friends, the adjacent house’s owner, proposed an irresistible offer that they'd be in charge of taking care of their little boy.

So Fernando as their only underage son was kicked out of his own house to the next door. That meant he would have to stay, eat, sleep, practically live in that house whenever he's not at school. They had three children just like the Torres' family, one of them was even at the same age as Fernando. They studied at the same school, in the same class to be precise, such luck.

That boy's name was Daniel Agger.

So it's settled that Fernando was to be put in Daniel's room, since they didn't have a guestroom anyway. Daniel's room was big enough for two. He had a bunk bed so the sleeping arrangement wasn't the difficult part. And the adults thought that it's a very nice idea so that Fernando wouldn't feel lonely being left at home since he would have Daniel.

What kind of idea was that, seriously? How could they think they two would be happy living together? They didn't even ask their opinions! The room might be big enough for even four but when dwellers were Fernando and Daniel, even the whole world wasn't enough!

Yes, you've heard it correctly. Daniel and he were kinda...opposite. Their parents might be best-friends-forever but Fernando and Daniel had never thought about even BEING friends. They sat in opposite corners in class, having different group of friends who were kinda rivals. Though Fernando had never actually hassled with Daniel, he knew from the look that the Dane didn't like him a bit.

Oh yes, they're Danish, he might forget to state that. Though they'd been living here long enough to practically be Spaniards themselves, it's still another dissimilarity they had: Scandinavian versus Iberian, he could find discord even in their origins.

But that might be a prejudice, he'd never had problems with other Scandinavians except Daniel, though.

And now Fernando's sitting in a couch in his one-month bedroom, staring blankly at his new roommate who's apparently the complete owner of the room, on their first day together. His parents just caught a flight to Cairo and Fernando carried his stuff here and registered to his temporary guardian and roommate. Agger didn't pay any attention to the Spaniard, he's indulging in an electric guitar and freaking rock music which was blasting out of the stereo with deafening noise.

The voice was so loud Fernando swore his tympanic membrane was throbbing frantically because of it.

God. Damn. It! Does he have to handle this every day? He'd go crazy because of it. Seriously!

"Hey," Fernando tried to beat Muse's voice from the subwoofer. No response from Agger.

"Hey!" The blonde yelled louder. Agger still hadn't turned around, he's busily tuning his instrument.

"Hey!!" Fernando leaped out of the couch this time, riled up. Stalking forward, he stopped precisely in front of the Dane. "Couldn't you turn the volume down for a tad?!"

Agger pulled a face, definitely extremely annoyed. Whose idea was it sending this nerd into his room? For God's sake, how would he survive the next impending month?! Does he have to have dinner with him every evening, sleep in the same room with him, like practically live with him?!

Mom and dad, I hate you!

"What's your prob?!" Daniel lowered the volume but the gleam in his eyes told Fernando that he's absolutely not happy about this.

"Why do you have to turn the volume up that high?" The blonde pursed his lips, trying to be civilized. "It's deafening, and makes us impossible to hold a conversation."

Daniel snorted. "I don't have anything to converse with you,” he sneered. "And if you don't like it, you're free to get out of my room." Then the Dane turned the volume up to its highest level sending Fernando instantly pull his hands to cover his ears.

The blonde gritted his teeth. Right. If you don't want to be friends, then we don't be friends. Fine. Whatever you like.

And fuck you!

***

"David, I'm sleepy already." Iker yawned. It'd been...how many hours since they'd been sitting here watching Victoria and her friends eating and chatting and picking their teeth? How fascinating. He'd finished a paella, two tapas dishes, two hot chocolates and even a cappuccino. The feeble caffeine was completely beaten by mighty carbs so he’s drowsy by now.

"What?" David asked surprisingly like he'd just been fetched from his daydream unwillingly, but after a glance at the Spaniard for only a millisecond, his eyes automatically drifted to Victoria again.

Iker was annoyed. "I'm leaving." Slinging his bag across his shoulder, the Spaniard got up. David straightened up immediately, panic-stricken all of a sudden.

"What?!" The English hissed. He caught his friend's wrist, unnerved. "Of course you won't be leaving!" David whispered, ordering as well as pleading. Iker quirked his brow.

"But David, I'm sleepy," he murmured. "It's no point for me sitting here anyway. I don't get it, why don't you go asking her out or something? You know no one would resist a bloke like you, including Victoria Adams."

"What's a bloke like me?" David asked absentmindedly, his eyes were back to the girl again. Iker yawned.

"See?" He asked, glad that he could provide a proof. "It's already nine. I should be home by now already Dave or else my mom would make a fuss."

"All right, all right," Caving in eventually, David bent down to grab his bag up off the floor. The Spaniard raised his brow again.

"You don't have to go now, you know?" He watched as the Londoner stood up, then whispered, "go asking her out, you oaf!"

But David turned a deaf ear to the Spaniard's word, he grabbed Iker's wrist. "Let's go," he muttered, and Iker was dragged out of Las Especias with he's-quite-sure-they’re-Victoria's eyes glancing at them from behind.

"David," Iker called out when they’re slowly walking home, their houses were on the same route from here.

"Hmm?" David acknowledged his utterance without averting his eyes from the path.

"Where have all your courage gone? I don't see why she'd reject you. She even told you that you'd find her at the restaurant if you care to. It's obvious she's been waiting for you to ask her out," Iker pointed out.

The English pursed his lips, kept being lost in his thought long enough until Iker doubted whether his friend heard what he'd said.

"Will you go with me then?" Then he blurted out all of a sudden. Iker frowned.

"You mean when you ask her out? I can if you want me to, I'll stand behind you if it'd make you feel better."

"No," David replied uncertainly, "I mean when Victoria and I go out on a date." He looked at the Spaniard, earnestness gleaming in those captivating hazel eyes. "Will you go with me?"

The question almost tripped Iker over his own feet. "What?" The Spaniard couldn't believe his own ears. "Are you barmy? What would I do that for? I mean, what would you want me to do that for?"

David averted his eyes to the sidewalk. "I don't know," the Londoner murmured though he didn't even seem certain about what he himself was thinking. "I want you there because I'd be so lost without you."

***

Xabi Alonso's mobile vibrated.

Fishing it out, he glanced up at Mr. Benitez in front of the class, making sure he wasn't looking in this direction then pushing a button, opening the new message.

The sender wasn't in his contact list but that 9-digit number had ingrained in his brain until Xabi could simply recite it.

The message said:

_'What does the major part of an atom consist of?'_

The Spaniard smirked, he didn't even pause before typing back.

_'Empty space.'_

Pushing the send button, he’d waited a few more minutes before another message got in.

_'Correct. ;)'_

Xabi smiled, putting his mobile back in his pocket. It'd been a couple of weeks that these puzzle messages kept being sent to him by an anonymous sender. At first, Xabi was suspecting, but he replied anyway. And then they kept coming, once or twice a day, until it’s routine that he'd play this game with Mr. X.

Xabi Alonso loves riddles and mysteries, he loves seeking answers for things, it's in his habit, that's why he'd applied for several pure science - preferably physics - faculties in renowned universities around Spain for Bachelor Degree. He believes that everything happening in the universe has rational and applicable explanation, and the sender knows it.

He used enigma as a way into Xabi's heart.

Oh, yeah, he knew the right way in.

And Xabi thought he knew who Mr. Anonymous was after all. Though he tried to keep the distance in person and, frankly, they'd never spoken directly, Xabi wasn't a fool who didn't notice who in this school had eyes on him all the time.

It's Mikel Arteta.


	2. Chapter 2

_'If an item moves very, very fast, it becomes smaller and...?'_

The message was received early on a vivacious autumn morning. Xabi's walking to school, it's only 8 o'clock so he's in no hurry. The Basque thought for a couple of seconds before replying the message,

_'Heavier.'_

He’d waited a minute more before another message got in.

_'Correct again. U r ingenious, Xabi Alonso.'_

The Spaniard smiled to himself. He’s about to put his mobile away when it vibrated again. Xabi quirked his brow before opening up the new incoming text.

 _'Check out ur locker. ;)'_ was what it simply said.

What's with his locker? Curiosity nudged him to send an inquiry but he resisted. Of course he'd have to check it out himself, and he'd know the answer within the next five minutes.

He arrived.

The hallway was bustling with enthusiastic students. Xabi stopped at his locker, there’s a plastic bag hanging on the knob.

The Spaniard unhooked the bag and opened it with pure curiosity, inside there were a box of milk, a turkey sandwich, and a note. Xabi fished the paper out.

_'Your breakfast. I know you don't have it at home but you should 'cos it'd make your brain function better the whole day. Take good care of your health, don't spend too much time solving puzzles until you forget to._

_Take care.'_

The writer didn't leave a name but Xabi didn't mind. How Mr. X knew that normally he didn't have breakfast was beyond his knowledge. He turned around to walk to class but then changed his mind.

He flipped the note, fished out his pen from his bag and wrote in it,

_'Thank you very much for worrying about me. Why won't you treat me breakfasts every morning so you can be sure that I really have?_

_Thanks anyway,_

_Xabi'_

The Basque returned that piece of paper to the plastic bag and hung it on the knob the exactly same way as he found it, except that other contents had already gone. Xabi left it there, he's certain that when he came back at lunch break, it would disappear.

The Spaniard sauntered away with a box of milk and a turkey sandwich in hand. Of course he didn't actually need someone to treat him food, may it be a turkey sandwich or a plate of the Zillion Dollar Frittatas every morning, he could take care of himself.

But a bag couldn't simply appear at his locker every morning by itself.

That's how Xabi going to unmask Mr. He-Knows-Who.

***

"I'll go."

David thought Victoria Adams' hoarse voice was really sexy and the meaning it conveyed echoed in his head, it's the only sound he could hear though the place was actually quite noisy. At that moment he forgot to breathe, and could feel that Iker who's standing not far behind him was holding his breath, too.

"I...," the English was lost for words, immediately forgot the script which Iker and he brainstormed and wrote together, it included every scenario they could think of that could ever happen after David had asked Victoria for a 'casual lunch' at a restaurant at noon tomorrow, since today was Friday. They had rehearsed it many times before. Then again, at a moment like this, David, and even Iker, wasn't certain any more either they simply forgot to put in this scenario where Victoria actually said yes, or it was that everything had suddenly been swept off David's brain, leaving only Victoria-who-said-I'll-go that mattered.

David still couldn't find his tongue and silence that crept in threateningly was suddenly interrupted by incoherent sounds of giggles from Victoria's friends. Victoria now looked like she’s trying to suppress a smile, too. David blushed, was even more paralyzed as he acknowledged that he was laughed at by five gorgeous high school girls - David who’s always cool, handsome, dandy and unbeatable.

"David!" Iker hissed behind him, the Spaniard's voice retrieved him back to the situation. Then he realized that he had to say something, anything. The Londoner opened up his mouth, then when he couldn't find a word, snapped it shut again, and that mien drew out chortles form the girls even more.

"Thank you," the boy choked out at last.

"Don't be," Victoria said, keeping her eyes on a glass of punch, stirring it restlessly with a straw. "So, see you tomorrow?"

David drew in a deep breath, still couldn't believe that this was actually happening. "Yes,” he whispered, "sure."

 

"Iker, I made it!"

Iker laughed good-humoredly as David strangled him to death with a deep tight hug. The British was in euphoria after his brain had been temporarily predominated by stupefaction. He squeezed Iker in a fervent embrace until the Spaniard was almost stifled.

"David, stop!" Iker tried to disentangle his friend's arms, David released him.

"You have no idea how on cloud nine I am now," he hissed as the Spaniard adjusted his crumpled shirt and untidy collar. The English boy laughed at Iker's unsettlement and ruffled the Spaniard's already-disheveled hair.

"Hey!" Iker jumped away since David wasn't helping, but the Londoner grabbed his wrist.

"Why do you care what you look like at this time? It's almost nine." David's still smiling like mad.

"We should go home," Iker cut off, was about to get off when the other boy pulled him back and chirped,

"My parents aren't home today. Would you like to come and stay over at my house?"

That’s a surprise. "How about Joanne and Lynne?" He asked about his friend's sisters.

"They're there, but so what?" The Londoner shrugged and smirked mischievously as something naughty came across his mind. "And we can try my dad's whiskey," he hissed excitedly.

"What?!" He knew David was so impatient to try these kinds of things that usually he wouldn't be allowed to. He knew very well where his dad had kept those bottles of alcohol hidden from his children's eyes. Normally David would have not dared, but his parents hadn't been away and left their kids at home alone all night quite often.

"Let's call your mom," David whispered animatedly.

***

Cesc was almost grilled by his mother once she realized what he'd brought home with yesterday. At first, they, he and the unfortunate Chihuahua who kept biting Cesc's shoes alternating with its tail having absolutely no idea that it might not have even a shed to stay over tonight, were not allowed to 'put a single one of your mutts' hair (Cesc’s included) through the door.' But then Cesc begged, and his sister begged, and when his father arrived, he begged, too, since the puppy was so cute that they couldn't resist its charm. So eventually his mom caved in, on condition that Cesc would be the one thoroughly responsible for it, he had to feed it twice a day, take a bath once a week, to a walk and to the doctor for vaccination. And she would banish it the instance it vandalizes any furniture in this residence, including her shoes.

Cesc reluctantly agreed.

Now he's sitting at a park, two leashes in hands. The puppies, his and Gerard's, were bullying one another fiercely. Cesc would pull a leash or the other another way once in a while so the puppies would be dragged away from each other. But then one of them would plunge forward again, hurtling into its buddy until they both tumbled on the floor and started their little war for the next round. Cesc looked at them good-humoredly.

"Git, I bought you a spare." Gerard walked back from a hot dog stand with two pieces of them in hands. Cesc wrinkled his nose.

"I'm not hungry."

Gerard simply sat down on the bench beside Cesc, literally throwing a hot dog into the smaller boy's lap. "Eat," he said while taking back his puppy's leash from Cesc.

Cesc looked at the fast food in his lap, the sauce had already smudged his jeans. He sighed, grabbed it and without another word, turned and shoved it in Gerard's mouth.

"Prick!" The taller Spaniard dodged but to no avail. He shouted through his mouth full of food, ketchup and mustard covered all the better parts of his lips and chin. Cesc laughed. Their puppies were chasing each other about, their leashes were now binding around Gerard's and Cesc's ankles in a jumble. Wiping all traces of slimy dressings off his face, Gerard glared at Cesc who realized a bit too late that he shouldn't be sitting around waiting for a counterattack which would sure to come. Sadly, he couldn't escape, his legs were now tangled with other three beings. The realization that dawned on him appeared horror-stricken on his face.

"Oh, Cesc." Gerard did sound a bit sympathetic when he not-too-gently shoved his half-eaten hot dog in Cesc's mouth.

Well, that's how they showed how well-beloved the other was usually.

"Have you named the puppy yet?" Gerard asked as they both wiped all traces of messy smear off their faces.

"I'm thinking about it." Cesc nibbled at his hot dog, well, what's left of it. "Maybe I'll call him 'Arsenal'."

Gerard raised his brow up high. "Hmm, that sounds so...mighty."

"He's the smaller of the two," Cesc pointed out, watching the Chihuahuas quarreling without being tired out. "He needs a strong name to be powerful. How about yours?"

Gerard shook his head. "I couldn't come up with any cool names yet," he murmured. "But if yours' name is about weapon, maybe I'll think of something along the line," he paused. "How about 'Bazooka'?"

"Hmm, that sounds cool," he agreed. "So, we've their names then." He eyed them fighting at their feet. "And who would surrender their hands to those baby fangs to split them up first?"

Leaning on his seat, Gerard slung his arm around Cesc's shoulder. "We can sit here for a while." They had finished their small meals by now. "They look fun down there, I don't want to interrupt them yet."

Cesc quirked his brow. "Gery," he drawled, "you're not wiping your hand on my shirt, are you?" He didn't even turn to look at Gerard's hand on his shoulder but glaring daggers at him instead. Gerard grinned smugly.

"Nope," he denied.

***

The room was noisy with students' chats since the teacher of their first class hadn't come in yet. Fernando's sitting with his friends, talking mildly while also trying to finish one of his homework. He glanced fleetingly at the other side of the room as he heard loud guffaw. Agger's there with his usual fellows - all thugs - and as the Spaniard glimpsed at him, their gazes accidentally met. Not only he who's currently looking at Fernando, but also all of his friends.

So his hunch was right, again, they're gossiping about him and of course laughing at him.

Fernando gritted his teeth. All his consolidation of effort towards his assignment was now vanished. Throwing his pen onto the table, he slumped against the backrest and folded his arms across his chest, grimacing in annoyance.

"What's up, Nando?" Sergio Ramos was surprised by his friend's sudden change of mood. Fernando looked away, in the direction of nothingness where there're no both Sergio and Agger.

"Nothing," he murmured.

 

Fernando really didn't wanna go home, he meant, that house, not his home. So after a football game on school pitch with his friends, the Spaniard went back to his own house, stayed there for the rest of the evening doing his homework then reading some history books. But when his stomach protested, he knew he had no choice but to go back to the Danes' since there's nothing to eat here and more importantly, he didn't know how to cook.

"Fernando, where have you been?! We've been so worried about you!" Mrs. Agger made a fuss over him the second he's home. Fernando simpered. They're about to start supper, he came exactly in time.

"I went back to my house, it's more familiar in there, sorry," he murmured.

"Oh, honey, don't be." Mrs. Agger looked like she wanted to step up and hug the little Spaniard. "You must miss your family so bad, musn't you? A little boy left alone in a bleak house where used to be warm and noisy. They'd come back soon, Fernando. Don't be gloom, honey."

With that, Daniel who'd been arranging cutleries at the dining table and dead-silent all of the time, snorted very loud.

And also with that, Mrs. Agger suddenly realized her son was there. "Daniel, why didn't you take Fernando home with you this evening?"

The Danish boy gaped at that out-of-the-blue question which was immediately aimed at him. He glared at his mother like to deplore quietly. But Mrs. Agger stared back, waiting patiently for his reply.

"Why should I do that, mom?" Daniel snarled. "I had something else to do, as well as Torres. You put him into my room doesn't mean that we have to be together all the time. And please, I meet him all day in class and also have to spend the whole night with him. Can't I have a break or something?!"

Daniel really got a point, and Fernando was glad that he didn't have to make up an alibi to defend himself further. But Mrs. Agger didn't seem to concede easily.

"You'll have to do that tomorrow," she declared.

Daniel's jaw dropped, as well as Fernando's.

"What?" The Danish boy hissed after comprehending what his mother had just said.

"You heard me." Then she resumed arranging the dishes on the table. Dinner was ready. "Fernando is sad, he needs someone to be his company, at least for a week." She sat down. Marco and Stephanie, Daniel's younger brother and sister, washed their hands and came out of the kitchen. His dad also appeared at the doorstep. "Tomorrow you have to come home with Fernando," she simply stated.

"But mom!" Daniel was fumed. "Won't you gonna ask Torres' consent to that?! Don't you think he might have some other plans?" Since he knew it's no point of him making his point, he relayed it to Fernando, hoping the Spanish boy could help him – them - out of this.

Fernando took his cue. "Actually, Mrs. Agger, Ag...Daniel doesn't have to do that at all. We both have different activities to do after school, and I don't want to disturb him further than stealing his privacy in his bedroom. And I'm not sad, really. It's just that I feel more comfortable in my own home, of course, since it's just my second day over here, but I'm sure I'll get better soon."

"No, no, no, Fernando, don't think like that. You're not disturbing him or any of us at all, honey," Mrs. Agger made certain, didn't even glance at Daniel to ask for his opinion which was apparently evident on his freckly face in absolute disagreement. "And that's why my son will have to be your company, so you can get familiar with him, with us, as soon as possible, as I notice that you still called each other by last names."

Daniel gritted his teeth and Fernando pursed his lips. That's absolutely not his fault, he almost called the boy 'Agger' but changed his mind in time to show others that they're not that aloof towards one another. Agger..., okay, Daniel, was the one who called him by his last name out loud, twice.

"You understand what I've said, right Daniel?" Mrs. Agger asked, and Daniel murmured though not consentient. Looking up, he glared daggers at Fernando, as if to reprimand the Spaniard who failed to convince his mother to not order them to do what they both knew were dying not to do. Grimacing, Fernando ended the conversation by dining his supper embitteredly. He didn't have any appetite at all.

Lingering downstairs, Fernando helped Mrs. Agger washing the dishes, cleaning the kitchen and also arranging food in the fridge until he had absolutely nothing else to do. He didn't wanna go up and be alone with Daniel in that confined room, yet it seemed that his excuses had already run out. And from the loud noise of music drifting from upstairs, he knew that Daniel had started his private rock concert in his bedroom once again.

Fernando shambled up the stairs very slowly since he didn't wanna reach where they led. The noise was even vociferous up here and was kinda deafening when he reluctantly arrived at the door to Daniel's secluded territory. The Spaniard held his breath and gingerly knocked on the door, twice.

The rambunctious detonation was still there, and though Fernando was certain Daniel could never hear his knocks from what sounded like a mini World War III happening inside, he swore that the blast was even louder, if that's even possible.

The Spaniard cautiously laid his hand on the doorknob and twisted it. To his surprise, it wasn't locked. So he inhaled deeply in preparation before opening the door and getting in.

Daniel was standing in the middle of the room, his back to the door. He was indulging in obstreperous heavy metal and though the Spaniard was quite certain he knew Fernando had got in, didn't show any sign of interest.

Fernando walked straight to his bed - their bed - and sat down on it. Daniel granted him the lower bed of his bunk, on which normally used to be put his random messy stuff like unclean garments, unfinished homework and stale snacks. Fernando didn't make any comment about that. He took off his sneakers carelessly and dug under a pile of new duvet. It smelled nice, like the fragrance of fresh green apple, since it was just out of laundry two days ago. The Spaniard pulled it up to his chin, concealing all his body except his freckly face, snuggling up against it while watching the Dane busying himself with an electric guitar.

The music was still clamorous but Fernando started to get accustomed to it, he had to if he wanted to survive the whole impending month. Though he started to feel like having a ringing in his ears, he told himself his ears would get used to it soon, too.

Daniel still turned his back to him yet Fernando could detect his movements clearly. From behind, the Spaniard could imagine Daniel's hand holding the guitar's neck with a forceful grip, his pick fiercely brushing taut strings, his emotional face distorting along perfervid waves of acute rock music. He looked professional, like a real virtuoso. That ferocious electric guitar suited his untamed character so well, it enhanced his personality to appear fiercely arrogant, wildly suave, and undeniably magnetic.

"What the hell are you staring at?!"

The Spaniard startled, was suddenly retrieved back from his absentmindedness. In front of him, Daniel had already spun around. He knew Fernando had been sneaking glances at him since he got in and now was quite vexed.

Fernando didn't see why he would need a lie so his answer was an honest reply. "You, playing the guitar." He smirked. "You seem to be very good at it, though."

Daniel sneered, "of course I am." He strummed the strings making random notes. "And don't be mistaken, I'm not gay like you."

Fernando was taken aback. "What?" There’s an edge in his voice though he wasn't even sure what the hell the Dane meant by that statement.

"I know you play piano, Torres." He grazed the pick up and down row of strings harder so they created louder noises. "Only gay people do that."

Fernando sprang up in bed, angry now. "How the hell does playing piano makes someone gay?!" he snarled. "That's so bullshit! Of course I'm not gay!"

The Dane smirked. "With that limp mien, lithe figure, blond hair and pretty baby face, of course you're gay," Daniel concluded. "And I'm not friend with shirt lifters." Then he turned back, resumed his strepitous heavy metal concert which definitely cut their conversation. Fernando gaped at him, lost for words. He gritted his teeth, really wanted to storm out of the room but couldn't think of any alibi to give to Mrs. Agger in this state of head-blankness. So he threw himself onto the bed, fuming like a fireball.

Fine, Agger! Whatever you say! Though there's no trace of truth in it, if you don't wanna be friend, then we won't be friends! Do whatever you like and I would also do the same. Fuck off!

But wait, did Agger just say that he’s 'pretty', by the way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anecdote:
> 
> The $64,000 question is the big question or the main question. The phrase comes from a television quiz program of the same name where the prize for each correct answer increased from 100 to 200 etc. right up to 64,000 dollars. That last question was the hardest and obviously the most important.


	3. Chapter 3

Xabi's plan was a bit miscalculated.

He arrived at school every morning to find that there was a bag of breakfast hooking on his locker handle. Someday there were sandwiches, someday croissants, or sometimes other kinds of pastries. No matter how early he came, he had never found the bearer. And every afternoon when he returned to his locker, the bag, if he left it there with a thank you note, would be gone mysteriously without Xabi’s notice.

How could he do that? Is Mr. X a magician or something?

_'What is our universe dominated by?'_

An incoming message sent Xabi quirk his brow, he smiled while typing a text back,

_'Love.'_

He hit send, snickered then typed another,

_'I'm kidding, the answer is dark energy.'_

He put his cell on the table and listened to Mr. Murinho who's relentlessly teaching Napolean War in front of the class. The next minute his phone vibrated again, Xabi fetched it ignorantly.

_'Would u like 2 meet?'_

That came unaware. Xabi's eyes widened, his thumb transfixed on the pad as he stared at the message disbelievingly.

It had been a month that this game began, a month since the first day the mystic messages appeared on his mobile screen. At first he was nonplussed then curious to know who the sender was, he often found himself slowly glancing around the surrounding crowd looking for clues of who could be the one. From that, he frequently caught a pair of brown eyes sneakily gazing back at him from afar.

Their owner was Mikel Arteta.

Of course, Xabi wasn't sure whether he's the real Mr. Anonymous who kept sending him texts and also bags of breakfast every morning, yet he's the only person in this school who Xabi was quite certain had explicit interest in him. Xabi had never had girlfriends or boyfriends, but he knew when there's someone keeping an eye on him most of the time, he's not stupid.

If there would be someone up his butt, the only one he could think of was Arteta.

Xabi typed back without mulling too long.

_'When and where?'_

He waited two-minute long, and during that Mr. Murinho's voice went in one ear and out the other without leaving any trace in his brain. Then his phone vibrated again – it had been in his hand all the time. Xabi opened the message.

_'After school. Behind the gym?'_

Xabi pursed his lips. Of course, he didn't need to consider long. The Basque replied as his heart drummed in his chest.

_'Sure, 4pm, c u there.'_

***

Fernando REALLY didn't wanna go home.

Okay, he knew everybody might be annoyed by this reiteration, he was even bored with the notion himself. But Fernando really didn't want to go back to the place where should be cordial and comfortable, should provide him resort. Instead of reposal, reality was that he would go back to find Daniel Agger in the same room and that made him really couldn't live in peace.

So after having finished classes, Fernando decided he would spend more time at school. He refused Sergio's and Jesus' invitation for a football game and chose somewhere else that's more pacific instead. He went to the school's classical music room - the place he loved to go when in need of somewhere to hide.

Fernando opened the door, to find that the room was large yet empty which was what he wanted. There were many kinds of musical instruments, one corner held violins and cello, another had saxophone and trumpets, there're also classical guitars and harp in one crook, while the other had accordion, clavinet and piano.

The Spaniard sauntered to the keyboard instrument section.

He reached the piano, it stood there in a niche of the room tranquilly yet majestically. Fernando’s fingers had brushed its polished surface down to the keyboard before he sat down on a stool in front. All of his ten fingers had grazed the white and black keys, testing their tunes before started playing a piece.

 _'Clair de Lune,'_ the third movement of _'Suite bergamasque'_ by Debussy - one of his favorites. All his preferred pieces had a common quality: they calmed him down somehow.

Music filled the vague space. The soft, smooth and harmonious rhythm sounded so placid that its hypnotizing melody could actually take his mind away from life's difficulty. The blonde’s lean fingers caressed the ivories airily like kisses of butterfly’s feather. Evening sunlight broke through the window, pouring coral ray on the carpeted floor and the piano's black beech wood, too bad it's not moonlight. So the Spaniard closed his eyes, let his mind flow with the movement and imagine the beauty of the moon in his head. It took almost three minutes until he stroked the last notes and ended the melody grandiosely.

Only two seconds of silence, two seconds that the room was absent of sound, then applause broke the serenity. Fernando startled. "Whew," a whistle came from the direction of the door. The Spaniard snapped his head around,

To find Daniel Agger standing in the doorway, clapping inertly. The blonde was petrified as the Dane shambled in tardily.

"What are you doing here?" Fernando snarled, though his heart raced in a bizarre pace. Well, wasn't that boy the bane of his existence? Wasn't he the reason he's here in the first place? Agger reached the piano, his otherwise callous fingers grazed the burnished black beech.

"You have to go back home with me," he simply stated, didn't look Fernando in the eyes.

"What?" The Spaniard stared at the other boy, couldn't believe his own ears.

"Don't you ever think that I'm willing to do this," the Dane snorted. "I just do what my mom told me to do. If I don't do it today, I'll have to do it tomorrow. So let's just get it over with." He eyed the Spaniard. Fernando didn't know what to reply, he shifted restlessly in his seat.

"How did you know I'm here?" He asked, and Agger snorted again.

"How's that difficult to guess?" He asked. "We've just finished class so you couldn't be far. When I noticed you weren't in class anymore, I decided to check here first." The Dane smirked. "And yeah, I'm a genius. I knew that it's you the moment I heard the piano, didn't even have to open the door to confirm it." With that, it's Fernando's turn to snort.

"How the hell could you tell that it's me only from hearing the piano?"

Agger eluded the question. "Play more," he said.

"What?" Fernando gawked at him the umpteenth time.

"I said 'play more.' What's so difficult with that?" He snapped but looking a bit anxious. The Spaniard slowly smiled knowingly. Arguing no more, he turned back to the piano and stroked the keyboard.

He would try something different this time, something more modern maybe? He thought for a moment then solo played his other favourite song, _'Hello'_ by Lionel Richie.

The Dane hushed, and like the world around them was suddenly enchanted. As Torres’ fingers flew over the tide of rhythm, contriving spellbinding melody, Daniel was completely captivated by the sad music. With the Spaniard's feathery touches on the ivories, he envisioned an angel sitting here with his wings stroking the keyboard so the notes drifting out of it could be this celestial.

Daniel didn't even notice when the song finally ended, like the spell was still lingering in the air and thoroughly engulfed his soul with its magic, not until Torres cleared his throat.

"Isn't that impressive?" The Spaniard asked, impish smile on his lips. Daniel knew his reaction had given Torres confidence, which he didn't like it at all.

"Let's go home," he hissed through gritted teeth, spun around and stalked out of the room grumpily.

Fernando giggled before getting up and following the Dane back home.

***

Xabi's heart was drumming in his chest in an uneven rhythm. It's five minutes to four, five minutes more until the time of their appointment. He's so nervous sitting in class, unmeaningful words went through his ears, Mr. Pellegrini's voice had no meaning to him now. The only thing Xabi wished to hear right then was the bell ringing..., okay, the other thing might be the vibrating sound of his phone.

It seemed like forever but finally the bell rang. The final class of today had ended and students all rose from their seats, gathering belongings then getting out of the room. Xabi did the same. Stalking cautiously, he intermittently looked from left to right searching for anyone who seemed to be looking in his direction, but found none. The Basque walked out of the building, still no one followed. So he paced along the pitch, his destination was the gymnasium on the far side of it.

Many students were on the pitch ready for an after-school game. Xabi didn't take much notice of those boys, he strode towards the back of the gym.

"Alonso."

Xabi stopped short just before turning around the gym corner as his name was called out from behind. That voice was unfamiliar and Xabi didn't even know why his heart was beating this fast as he turned around to face the speaker.

The boy stood anxiously in front of him wasn't beyond his expectation. It's Mikel Arteta.

"Err, I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I just arrived at the pitch and saw you. I've never noticed that you normally play football?"

Xabi quirked his brow, really didn't understand what Arteta was talking about. Arteta shifted on his spot to the other Spaniard's questioningly piercing brown eyes. "I'm sorry to be rude, you might not even know me. I'm Mikel, studying in the same year as you, 12th grade, room 2," he paused, looked a bit agitated. "I just wanna ask whether you’d like to play football with us?"

Xabi didn't understand a thing. What was happening? Arteta acted like he just encountered with Xabi perchance, then simply asked him to play football with his friends? Well, that's a bit unforeseen, he didn't expect this when he first read the message 'would u like 2 meet?' He didn't assume that's the reason Arteta asked them to meet at the gym. At one moment a thought crossed Xabi's mind that maybe Arteta might have nothing to do with this at all, maybe Mr. Anonymous was totally someone else. But then Xabi dismissed the idea, how could it be someone else? It's Arteta and Arteta all along, he knew and was quite confident of this knowledge for quite some time now. If it's not Arteta who was Mr. X, then no one was, he couldn't think of anyone further in this school...

"Well, I didn't mean to intervene or anything. If you have something else to do, don't heed me. I was just wondering whether you'd like an idea of playing football together. If you don't, then I would bother you no more," Arteta stammered, he's quite restless now seeing that the other boy had been silent for too long. Then Xabi decided.

"Can you wait for me for a minute?" He blurted out.

"Pardon?" Arteta didn't understand but Xabi didn't wait for his answer. He turned towards to back of the gym, just wanted to make sure that he didn't miss anything. Xabi held his breath as he turned around the corner.

The lawn there was vacant, there's no one.

Xabi didn't realize when he slowly exhaled, in relief, he guessed. Arteta followed him a minute later as Xabi still stood there unmoved.

"Is there something wrong, Alonso?" He asked unsurely. When Xabi turned around at last, a soft smile had already glossed his lips.

"Nothing," he said. "Let's go to the pitch so you can introduce me to your friends, shall we?"

***

"Cesc, over here!"

Gerard's voice came from the right side of the pitch. Cesc glimpsed over there then sent the ball with his right foot, aiming at Gerard. It landed precisely in front of his taller friend and Gerard snatched the ball, used his giantess advantage to thwart other players. He ran along the wing side - though his position was actually centre-back - then kicked the ball to a striker waiting in cue on the front line.

Lionel Messi caught it, with his tiny figure he ran swiftly past the other team's centre-back leaving Sergio Ramos not a chance. Lionel was alone with the goalkeeper now, he swerved to the right and kicked.

The ball was sent to the back of the net aesthetically.

His team shouted out roar of cheers. They all ran up to Lionel, squeezed him in strangling embraces. Lionel laughed good-humoredly. Gerard was one of the lasts who approached him. The Argentinean turned to the taller boy, smiled widely while hugging him.

"You assisted me again, Gery," Lionel murmured against Gerard's firm chest. "Thanks."

"No prob, babe," Gerard replied, he always called Lionel pet names since the other was so tiny, he fitted perfectly in the taller boy's arms until Gerard couldn't resist treating him like a little girl.

They parted and resumed their positions for a new kickoff. When the game finally ended, Gerard walked to Cesc and slung his arm around the other boy's neck loosely. "What do you think about Lionel?" He asked. Cesc raised his brow.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think I like him," Gerard whispered. And Cesc's eyes widened.  
"What?"

"I don't know, dude..." His eyes couldn't be taken off Lionel who's walking out of the pitch with Bojan Krkić. "I always adore small people, they're cute. Bojan is endearing, too, but I think I prefer Lionel," he babbled, then sighed. "But he's a boy."

Of course, Gerard would never notice how Cesc's countenance distorted though very slightly. It prickled him when Gerard said he liked small people, actually all small living things considered he liked Chihuahuas. Cesc was smaller than Gerard but not that small. It hit him in the face when Gerard said he preferred Lionel to Bojan, that meant Cesc himself didn't even fall into Gerard's category of interest. It stabbed him when Gerard said he 'liked' Lionel, and almost killed him when he said resignedly that 'he's a boy.'  
Don't all those mean he's simply unqualified?

But why would he care?

Of course, he cared. Cesc Fàbregas was many things but idiot, he knew what he wanted.

And apparently he also knew that he could never have it.

***

"Try this."

David chuckled while handing the Spaniard a glass of Glen Grant. The gold single malt scotch whiskey filled a quarter of the glass. Forty percent of alcohol was too much for simply a gulp or two of amateur drinkers, and to be honest, Iker had had more than ten gulps already. What even worse was that they weren't even the same kind of alcohol, they had tried vodka and brandy before, and now those hot liquids were having full effect on him. Inside it felt like there held a rambunctious theme park, though no sound was actually heard. The Spaniard felt like his intestine was now a roller coaster, his stomach a hurricane condor, his brain a top spin, and his whole body a drop tower ready to tumble upside down.

And it was burning, both inside his body and the weather around him right now.

"Dave, I dan't thank I should drank a drap morrre...," he couldn't even talk properly now. David snickered preposterously.

"One more, come on!" He insisted, took Iker's hand and put the glass in it. He then turned about to pour himself another glass of whiskey, too.

"Haw would ya be able to wake up and fand Vactoria tomarrow if we keep da-ing this?" Iker chortled good-humoredly, eyeing the English boy's new glass of spirits in his hand.

"We'll be okay," David answered then turned around again, clanked Iker's tumbler with his. "Bottom up." He grinned.

"What?!"

Though Iker didn't consent, once the British drank his in one gulp and smirked challengingly at the Spaniard, he couldn't resist. The golden liquid was so flammable it sent fiery sensation diffuse all over his body. Iker could actually feel how the fluid travel deep inside, via his mouth then his pharynx, through his gullet and arrived safely in his stomach, and not exaggerating, Iker swore he felt it disperse into his veins, too. That liquor burned his tissue all the way down.

If he'd have to swallow a gulp more, he's sure he would throw up in David’s face.

That's why he's so glad when David took that glass out of his hand and put it down on the table carelessly.

"Okay, that's enough." The Londoner's attention changed to the telly. Snatching the remote control, he browsed through channels after channels. It was 1 a.m. already, not so many things to watch at this late hour.

Then David stopped at a channel, the screen displaying an adult movie, and Iker could tell even through his hazy mind that the couple was both boys.

"What da fuck are ya watching?!" Laughing, Iker hit the other boy sitting next to him with a pillow. David guffawed, snatched that pillow and held it tight to his chest.

"I've never watched this kind of movie," he murmured, eyes unwavered from the film. "I mean, I've watched it, but not the gay ones."

"You shan't." Iker chuckled. "Change da channel, let's just fand some animal planets ta watch." The Spaniard reached for the remote control but David instantly swatted his hand away.

"No, let's watch this first. Don't you wanna know how they do it?" The English said like it was normal knowledge to learn, like he's taking lessons of how to make a chocolate bar or a cupcake.

"Haw they do what?!" Iker yelled but had already stopped deterring David from watching. He now also sat there silently, watching gay porn with wide astonished eyes.

Five minutes later, Iker felt like he's having a fever, inside of him was steaming and he really wasn't sure either it's because of those boozes he had before or the movie. So he budged. "That's enough," he said, but to his surprise, his voice was hoarse and low until he couldn't even hear it himself. David turned around.

"What did you say?" He raised his brow. The Spaniard swallowed, trying so hard to compose.

"That's enough," he reiterated, reached out in hope to yank the remote control off the English's hand but David held it away to the far side so Iker couldn't grasp it easily. The Londoner smirked.

Iker gritted his teeth, he recognized a dare when he saw one. 'If you want it, come get it,' it's read. So Iker jostled and even climbed into David's lap until eventually he grabbed the other boy's wrist. David laughed.

"Okay, okay, I yield." He chuckled. "But why are you so hot, Iker?"

The Spaniard's startled by the words and the British felt it so he hurriedly explained, "I mean hot like your body’s temperature is hot...," his voice trailed off as the back of his right hand gently touched Iker's forehead. "Damn, you're really hot. Are you having a fever or something?" He seemed to be so worried, Iker avoided their eye contact.

"I guess it's because of da boozes," he murmured, voice still dry.

"So I guess it's time to go to bed," David concluded, turned off the television immediately this time. Getting up, he grabbed Iker's wrist to pull him up together.

"I thank we need ta clean these stuffs farst otherwise ya dad would kill ya tomarrow farst thang if he sees what we've done." Iker gestured to the table full of so many kinds of alcohols which meant one of his children had tried them without permission.

"I'll do it after sending you to bed," David said and hauled Iker through the living room to the hallway then up the stairs.

David did as he said, after putting Iker to his own single bed, he went down to clean up the mess. After stripping off his jeans, Iker lay there, eyes wide-open staring at the ceiling though the room was dark. He didn't feel like sleeping at all, the theme park inside him was still running hectically and it'd got worse since they started watching that movie.

He wouldn't be able to sleep it off at this stage, Iker knew it, he would need some kinds of release...

The door opened and David came in. He didn't say anything while taking off sneakers and tucking himself under the same duvet. They both didn't mind of course, the bed was small yet not too difficult to handle two teenage boys at the same time.

Five minutes, ten minutes, and Iker still couldn't sleep. They're lying with their backs to one another. The Spaniard budged once in a while because he's too agitated to stay in peace and tried to hark the other boy's breathing rhythm to detect whether he'd already fallen asleep, which if so he would grasp a chance to rearrange himself in the loo, it would take only two minutes...

"Iker," David's voice uttering from the deep abyss of silence startled Iker. Sure as hell, the English still awoke. "You can't sleep?" The Spaniard heard movement behind him and realized that David had turned around now.

"Umm," Iker murmured, didn't think he should turn around, too. Though darkness could be the best mask, he knew something in his eyes might easily give away. "I've neva been drunk, so it might take times," he lied.

Silence crept up between them for a while, but Iker knew David was still awoke, his heavy breaths betrayed him. He wasn't sure whether David was drunk, he seemed so collected, but after all those shots, who knew?

"Let me help you," David said all of a sudden. Iker didn't even have a second to question what he thought he could help when a hand swiftly slid over his hip to his crotch.

"David!" Iker jolted immediately. He caught the English's wrist but it was too late. David had already touched his groin and definitely knew by now that he's so damn hard.

Iker squeezed his eyes shut, didn't dare facing any bit of reality now.

"You can't sleep like this, you know it," David hissed in his ears. When the British had got this close to him, Iker didn't know. The Londoner moved his hand against the Spaniard's forceful grip which seemed to back down a bit by now, grabbing Iker's erection through the fabric of his shorts.

The Spaniard breathed in deeply and didn't dare breathing out again for a whole minute after that.

David slid his hand under Iker's shorts without asking for permission, and Iker didn't object. The first touch of David's hand on his bare skin jerked the Spaniard, it's very cold, which meant that his own hard flesh was so inflamed. The Londoner fumbled with it until he found the most comfortable position, then started, very slowly, stroking it.

"D-David!" The Spaniard huffed, recoiling from David's touch since it aroused too much.

But the British pinned him to bed with firm arms, Iker felt that David had been holding his breaths, too, before whispered consolingly, "Relax," though Iker didn't feel that it could help anything. He panted hard, his body was screaming, it begged him to set it free, to release, to ejaculate...

When he's on the verge of orgasm, the English suddenly halted his hand job. The Spaniard was about to protest when David's both hands caught him, turned him over and before he could realize anything, found that his lips had been kissed by David's.

Iker's eyes widened in shock, David’s lips were cold compared with the Spaniard’s skin temperature. The British broke off soon enough but then nibbled down the other's neck. "Iker...," his voice was hoarse and full of desire, and Iker, shamefully, found that it stimulated him even more.

He didn't even realize when they struggled to take each other's clothes off, when David kissed him down his chest, belly, and beyond. He didn't know since when the British was aroused, maybe since he'd tried to help Iker out, or even before since they'd been watching that porn downstairs. When David tried to hurriedly thrust his shaft into Iker, it's so damn painful at first. But when he put some saliva there and they tried to move together, bit by bit, they gradually fit in and the rhythm after that, though rough and fast, was so natural they didn't have to think what to do next. That porn was useless as educational material, it's inessential because the real how was already there in the back of their brains, it's in their instincts from the start.

When they climaxed together that night, David came inside Iker and the Spaniard spurted all over his own stomach. Iker didn't know how long time had passed since they'd started this until it finally ended, he's too drunk to care, or even for his brain to function properly, and the orgasm sent him even higher until the world around him was spinning and blurred.  
But as they fell asleep together, Iker in David's arm, he wished that when he woke up tomorrow, everything that happened tonight would be just a dream.

A very sweet dream.


	4. Chapter 4

Iker woke up feeling like his head had been trampled by an eighteen-wheeler.

The room was lit up with sunlight pouring in an unfamiliar window, and he had no idea where he was even when he had looked around. He was lying alone in a single bed, rumpled blanket covering half of his body. He felt sore all over, especially his head. He’s cold and so parched down to his stomach, but when he started moving out of bed, he felt that his arse was sore, too. He frowned and lifted the blanket out of curiosity, then the fact that he wore nothing under it - not even underwear - punched him in the face.

Oh, fuck, David. Indeed.

Images of what he did - what they did - last night flashed through his numb mind and Iker felt chills run down his spine. Breathless and in a state of shock, the Spaniard slowly rose from bed whose he now realized. Once his legs hit the floor, they gave out under him. Iker stumbled up, felt the sharp ache so acutely when he moved. He gathered his clothes up off the floor and dressed very slowly and quietly.

When he fully clad, he looked around for a mirror. The reflection staring back at him looked awful, like a wino with a mess on his head. Iker rearranged himself properly, adjusting clothes and hair. He turned his body then his head around carefully, aware of the aches all over, checking for anything amiss and spotted a couple of hickeys on his pure white neck.

He bit his lower lip.

Where the hell is David?

The Spaniard opened the door, the hall outside was quiet as well as the bedroom so he softly set his feet on it. He descended the stairs, going through the living room where all the litters from last night were gone, thanks to David. Nonetheless, no one’s there, as well as the dining room and the kitchen. He frowned.

He found the other boy on the porch.

David sat facing the street, his back to the front door, cigarette in hand. When Iker set his feet on the planked floor, the wood squeaked, and Iker knew that David knew without turning around that he was there.

Iker stopped stock-still and silence fell between them, leaded pressure hung in the air like before the storm broke. The Spaniard waited and waited, for something that he himself didn't even know to happen.

Eventually David asked, "How are you feeling?" He inhaled the soothing smoke of his fag once, still didn't turn around. Iker shrugged, then felt stupid because David couldn't see it.

"I didn't know you smoke," he said instead.

This time the English shrugged. "You don't like the smell of it?" And he held the cigarette still, waited.

"I'm fine," Iker said, and didn't even know which question his answer was for.

David kept on smoking for a full minute. "I'm sorry for what happened," he said at last and turned around. He looked pale and was unshaven, there's blackness under his eyes like he'd been lack of sleep. All in all, he looked horrible. "It's all my fault. We shouldn't have got drunk, or watched that-that thing-"

Suddenly Iker knew what to do. "Forget it," he blurted out.

David blinked. "What?"

Striding to the steps the English had been sitting, Iker sat down and fetched the fag from between the other boy's fingers. "I said let's forget it." He smoked, eyes staring at somewhere between the opposite house and nowhere. "It's nothing. I couldn't even remember it clearly. So that couldn't count, right? What happened last night, never happened." The last sentence he turned and smiled at David, handing back the cigarette. The British stared at him, pure hesitation in his dark eyes, so the Spaniard reaffirmed, "I mean it." Then he laughed for a better effect though it was louder than he'd intended and broken so. "Don't make that face, David. You know it makes me go weak for you." Then he realized what he'd just said and felt a bit embarrassed, his cheeks flushed. "Well, the point is that I'm your friend, right? And you know I'll always be." He put his arms around David's shoulder, like a good friend does when his friend is in a miserable mood. "It's just a one-time thing, an experiment common in boys our age, nothing's wrong with it." He couldn't believe he'd said it, it's not that he believed what he'd said either, it just poured out of his mouth incessantly with a single-minded purpose to make David feel better.

"Well, if you're sure you're okay-"

"Of course, I'm okay!" Iker cut him off and laughed a bit bitterly again. "And I think it's time for me to go home now. You should go get a shower. If I recall correctly, someone has a date at noon today." He quirked his brow teasingly.

"Oh, shit!" David exclaimed, looking at his wrist and finding that he left his watch upstairs. "I've almost forgot it, what time is it now?"

"Not noon, yet." Iker smirked and stood up. David followed. "I'll be heading back home then," he announced, he thought he might leave his bag in the living room. "Good luck to you then. See you on Monday?"

"Yeah." David hesitated for a second, Iker wondered whether he remembered that he'd once asked him to go on a date with Victoria and him. But it didn't matter now because if he did remember, Iker didn't think he would dare asking him after all that had happened last night. Then David suddenly threw his arms around Iker and held him close. The Spaniard stiffened. "Thank you, Iker," the English whispered in his ear, "thank you so much."

There's something in David's voice that Iker couldn't quite put a finger on but he dismissed it in no time. "No prob." He hugged David back.

When the English finally let go of him, Iker felt like he was shattering into a thousand pieces inside.

***

"Hey, stop it."

Gerard’s slouching in a couch, watching TV pleasantly in a living room in Cesc's house when Arsenal barged in out of nowhere and a split second later, Bazooka followed. The bigger puppy pounced on the other precisely at Gerard's feet and they fought sprightly yet fiercely so.

"Leave them," Cesc said, simply glanced at them from the corner of his eyes then back to the telly again. "Are you sure we've bought Chihuahuas?" He wondered aloud. "They're rather like monkeys." The small fight at - actually, on - their feet didn't bother him though those sharp fangs and spiky claws sometimes ended up on wrong targets. But Gerard didn't think that way.

"I said, 'stop'!" He gnarled, bent to catch Bazooka and put him on the sofa. Even when he did that, Bazooka still snapped at the air and barked incessantly while Arsenal who's down below now got up on two hind legs, struggling to clamber up the couch by Cesc's and Gerard's knees to find his friend again. "You know what? Normally he's not this gleeful. When we're at home and I took him to play with other puppies next door, he didn't even look this happy. Only Arsenal could make him like this." He used his right foot to push Arsenal away playfully, the puppy stumbled from the soft shove then barked harder and dashed back again unyieldingly. Gerard laughed. "Look at them, I wondered what they would be like if I separate them for a week. Only a couple of days Bazooka was depressed and howled piteously already."

Cesc laughed. "Really?" Scooping his puppy up off the floor, Cesc put him in his lap but Arsenal struggled to death to go to Gerard's lap where Bazooka was. "Arsenal looked more ecstatic, too, every time they meet," he murmured.

"Will we try an experiment?" Gerard turned to him and asked impishly. Cesc was nonplussed.

"What experiment?"

"To test what they'd be like after a week of each other's absence," Gerard said. "I'm not sure whether dogs would be like humans. If it was me, I'm sure I'll be really miserable if I'm not seeing you for a week."

It didn't matter how usual Gerard's words were, for Cesc, the last sentence almost killed him with his own heart race. "Really?" Cesc whispered. "Why?"

Gerard held Bazooka up with one hand by its chest. He flashed his teeth mockingly at the puppy, held it away when it tried to lick the grin off his face. "Oh, I don't know." He didn't look at Cesc. "It'd be kind of weird, don't you think so? I mean, we've been chums since who knows when, since I'm four months-old, I guess. And we've always been together: go to school, away on hols, summer camps, et cetera. We're like an item, if you're there, everyone simply knows that I'm nearby somewhere. Being with you is like a habit ingrained in my genes, and I don't think I can live without you." He finished that sentence in the most normal voice like talking about the most normal thing in the world. Cesc was struck. "Just like these two," Gerard went on, imperturbable by Cesc's suspicious silence. "They've been with each other since birth and haven't been separated for a very long period. I wonder how they would react if they haven't seen each other for a time."

"I guess they'll be crestfallen for some time, then they'll get over it, quicker than human's recovery rate. I used to hear that when a mother dog was separated from her puppies, she would be forlorn for a week or two, then she would forget about everything. Everyone needs to move on anyway, though they're just dogs," Cesc supplied.

Gerard wrinkled his nose. "You're a cold-hearted prick." He put Bazooka on the floor where it started jumping on Cesc's legs for its mate once again. So Cesc put Arsenal down, too, and the two plunged at each other very happily before running out of the living room to go wreck some places else together.

Cesc went to bed that night with Gerard's words echoing in his skull. He wondered would he be despondent if he'd not be seeing Gerard almost every day like this, what'd it be like if they grew up and got married and had to spend time with their wives and kids instead of each other? Well, that maybe too far off, let's think about what would he be if Gerard get together with Lionel and leave him behind, all to himself and feeling the world he knew crumbling all around him? Would he move on like the mother dog he told Gerard? Or would it forever make him feel lonely, incomplete, ghastly wounded, like there's something missing, like he'd been cut out the most important thing in his life: the biggest and most crucial chunk of his heart maybe?

***

Fernando was lying in bed, watching Agger absorbedly playing his electric guitar. The noise was deafening as usual but the Spaniard had got used to it by now. Agger turned his front to Fernando this time and the Spaniard couldn't take his eyes off the Dane's fervid motion while he's playing a heavy metal song.

It was such a wild grace.

Fernando shifted in bed, he had been thinking about this for a couple of days now, maybe he should just spit it out. "Agger," he called out cautiously. Though the music was vociferous, Agger replied without glancing up from the metal strings.

"What?"

The Spaniard sat up, wasn't sure at all whether he should voice this out. "Can you...teach me how to play guitar?"

Agger suddenly halted his movement, hands froze. He looked at Fernando disbelievingly, his brows furrowed like he wasn't certain what he had just heard was correct.

"What?" He asked again.

Fernando pursed his lips. "Can you teach me how to play guitar?" He asked with more confidence this time, his eyes staring at the carpeted floor at first but then he looked up, gaze locking with the Dane to confirm his words.

And then Agger smirked.

"Are you sure about that?" He asked sneeringly. "Playing guitar isn't like piano, you know? Piano requires...subtle elegance - gayness to be precise, while electric guitar needs raw masculinity. I won't guarantee after playing with me your recent delicate fingers would be able to play piano again," he threatened.

But Fernando looked back at the Dane with determined brown eyes. "I'll do," he said.

That resolute answer surprised Agger a bit. He quirked his brows, grimaced, his hand kept plucking the strings. "Why do you suddenly want to do this?" He asked out of pure curiosity.

Fernando smiled coyly. "Why not?" His fingers also kept fiddling with the sheets. "I just wanna try something you seem so love to do."

The Dane paused, then nodded in acknowledgement. The latent meaning of that sentence didn't hit him like it hadn't dawned on the Spaniard as well what it could imply.

"Okay," Agger yielded.

 

"You have to put fingers over here like this: your ring finger here, middle finger here, and index finger over here..."

Fernando was holding a Spanish guitar, trying so hard to copy Agger's mien. The Dane was holding his electric guitar, trying his best to teach the Spaniard how to play a piece of wooden plucked string musical instrument. Daniel didn't know how to be a teacher, the last time he tried was when his sister asked him to teach her Algorithm homework. Well, he didn't think his sister had enough brain for Algorithm anyway since she didn't have a brain to tell the differences between who knew Algorithm and who did not.

"I said 'here', on this fretboard, not 'there'!" The Dane reached out to catch Fernando's ring finger to put it on the right place curtly. "Hold it tight, dumbass."

Fernando pursed his lips. It was the third curse word the Dane called him tonight after 'moron' and 'bonehead'. And they barely started playing guitars. "Okay, now strum it. This is the most basic chord: C chord." He held three strings tight and brushed the pick gently. He waited until Fernando followed then repeated, put more emotions in as he did it again and again. "Now put your pinky on this string, the same fret as your ring finger." The Dane budged his hand a bit as speaking, Fernando imitated his move. "This string, Torres, not that string," Agger scolded him though no swear word this time. Fernando bit his lower lip, he looked at the Dane's fingers carefully again then readjusted his hand to resemble Agger's locations. "Right," the Dane approved this time. "This is C7 chord." He strummed his guitar and Fernando did the same. "Okay." He stopped, so Fernando stopped. "That's enough for today," he simply stated.

"What?!" Fernando didn't feel like he had learned a thing.

"You know the basics already." Agger sat down in the couch and took the electric guitar out through his head. "It's very easy, just read the book and try it yourself." He threw a crumpled book at the Spaniard, Fernando caught it in time before it hit his face. He frowned while reading its cover: it's a guitar music book. He opened it and found that it taught all the basic chords, how to read tabs as well as how to play famous songs.

Fernando sat down while running his fingers through contents on yellowish pages. "Okay," he murmured at last. Agger burst out laughing all of a sudden. The Spaniard raised his brow, looking at his imperative roommate doubtfully. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Agger replied but snatched the book off Fernando's hands. "I'll give you homework then since now I'm your teacher." He flipped through the pages. "By Sunday evening, you're going to play _'Hello'_." He handed the book back to Fernando, the page bookmarked was _'Hello by Lionel Richie'_ chord.

"What?!" Fernando looked at it with wide eyes. _'Hello'_ on guitar? Come on!

"Why not?" Agger strummed his guitar again. "Last time I check, you like this song. It couldn't be that different from what you've already known so by Sunday you'll have to perform it. You can have my Spanish guitar for practice. I'm giving you mercy here by not assigning a hard rock song." He was deftly playing the solo guitar version of Hello's Chorus. Fernando's eyes went wide.

"How could I play it like that? I'm just starting!"

"No, idiot. You don't have to play it like this." He finished the Chorus. "This is for expert, you just follow the chords for now, I'm sure you'll be good at it like at your piano."

His last sentence perplexed Fernando, of course, since he'd never said anything good about the Spaniard before. And the Dane just casually said it like he’s actually encouraging him, like he actually meant it. Though he knew Agger might not really intend it that way, Fernando couldn’t help, just really couldn’t help…

...those damn butterflies from fluttering in his stomach right now.

***

It had been three days already since Xabi came to the pitch with Mikel after classes.

Not that he came here every day, those bunch of Mikel's friends didn't play football all the time like that. Mostly they played on Monday, Wednesday and Friday - umm, okay, those were already three days a week. He'd known some of the boys before - they're in the same school anyway - from study groups or other extracurricular activities. Xabi wasn't that bad at football, actually he's very good, it's just that he preferred spending time on something else rather than running around the pitch chasing a ball. He hadn't had good exercises like this for quite some time now and he thought it was a really good idea as well as a perfect chance for a little change in his routine life. He was happy, and he could tell that Mikel was happy, too.

One thing that prickled him so bad was that all those text messages had suddenly disappeared from his life since that day. The sender completely ceased sending them like his mission was completed, his goal was achieved, or maybe it's just the other way around. To this day, Xabi still wasn't even sure that Mikel was actually Mr. Anonymous, he doubted that since Mikel had never mentioned a thing about it. It was weird, he knew he should just ask him straight away, but he was...kind of scared. Xabi didn't really know if Mikel told him he had nothing to do with it, what he should do afterwards.

Like the text messages, Xabi had never received breakfasts every morning anymore. The routine had gone as well, as an exchange for his new life. Nonetheless, so often that Xabi found himself standing alone in front of his locker, glimpsing around the corner in hope to find a pair of well-known eyes looking back at him. Xabi knew he might actually be out of his mind, because...how the hell could 'that pair of eyes' be so well-known to him? He didn't even know whose eyes they were. He didn't know the owner, didn't know where or how to look for it, even worse...,

He didn't even know what he's actually looking for.

On their third day together, Mikel asked him,

"Xabi, can I ask you a question?" He looked so uncertain.

"Sure." Xabi grabbed his bag. They'd just finished football and everyone was parting to their homes now.

"You don't have a girlfriend, do you?" Mikel asked.

That question took Xabi off guard, he stopped short and stared cautiously at the other Basque. Biting his lips, Mikel strayed his eyes to the ground. He didn't apologize for the sauciness of the question, he had already prepared for this and intended it to be that way.

So Xabi answered, "no."

Mikel nodded. "How about a boyfriend?"

"No," Xabi answered, staring at his new friend waiting for it to happen. He knew what Mikel had in mind, surprisingly, he didn't feel excited or nervous at all.

"Really...?" His voice trailed off but Xabi knew he also expected this answer, he just needed to make sure before getting straight to the point. "If that's so...," he continued after a pause. "You might not know, Xabi, but I've been looking at you - only you - all along, long since you didn't even know I'm existed." He paused again. "Xabi, I think I really, really, like you...., a lot." And this time, he finally looked up from the ground and locked eyes with the other boy's, speaking rapidly yet so determinedly, "...could you be my boyfriend then?"

Xabi knew this had to come, and it came quite faster than he expected. But he'd already prepared for this, he wasn't a fool. How could it be otherwise since Mikel had been watching him from afar, since he was the only one that had been looking at him all along?

And Xabi knew from the first minute of their rendezvous that it had to end up like this.

No, it had to 'start' like this.

"Yes," the Basque answered, and he detected a glint of ecstasy in Mikel's eyes. Xabi smiled knowingly as the other boy gingerly walked up to him, uncertainly took Xabi's hand, and when Xabi didn't resist, he was euphoric even more.

"I'll walk you home," Mikel mumbled exultingly. He held Xabi's hand tight and Xabi nodded in permission.

So the two boys walked the street together, hand in hand all the way as the sun set beyond the rooftops of Charmatin, Madrid, on the far orange horizon.

Xabi had never had a girlfriend or boyfriend before, he’d never had a lover. It didn't cost a thing, maybe just a little time, to give it a try, Xabi told himself, so he's giving it a try. If in this world there really is a thing called 'love’, I want to know what it is, I want to feel what it is,

And I want you to show me.


	5. Chapter 5

His nightmare came sooner than he'd expected.

"I had lunch with Lionel yesterday."

It's Sunday and Gerard had just shambled into Cesc's house. Arsenal barked then wagged his tail excitedly looking for Bazooka. When he didn't find his friend, he looked confused at first, then Cesc could even tell there's a glint of disappointment apparent in his eyes. Turning around with his tail tugging between tiny hind legs, he walked back to lie at Cesc's feet, looking forlorn. It'd been a week since Arsenal hadn't seen his friend.

And Cesc could tell that he's dying inside.

But Cesc would care a bit more if Gerard's first greeting had been something else.

"What?" He asked, a bit shocked.

"Well, I asked him to go out with me." Gerard ensconced in the couch beside Cesc. "And he said yes. We had lunch and strolled around La Vaguada."

"And?" Cesc asked after Gerard had paused. He felt something queasy in his stomach.

"And it went fine," Gerard mumbled. "What do you think?"

Cesc felt like someone had just hit him in the face. "About what?" His voice was husky.

"Lionel," Gerard mumbled, "and Lionel and me."

He sucks! Cesc's mind screamed. And he's a boy, as you seemed to mind earlier, what happen with that now?! Also when you stand together, you are like a giant and a dwarf, and that's considered interbreeding!

But, yeah, self-control, and he couldn't point out about homosexuals anyway, since he seemed to be one.

"Whatever," that's the best he could offer.

"Yeah." And Gerard didn't even seem to listen to him. He kicked Arsenal playfully. The puppy growled. "Is he mad at me for not bringing Bazooka along?" He suddenly changed the topic.

"You should stop doing this," Cesc snapped, didn't even know he's referring to the puppies' dissociation, the kicks at Arsenal, or the Messi thing.

"Bazooka looked awful, too. He keeps howling, eats less, and doesn't play with other puppies like he means it," Gerard mused. "Give me a week more, I wanna see will they finally forget each other."

"What the fuck are you trying to prove?!" Cesc fumed. "What if they get worse? What if they die?!"

"No, they'll not," Gerard insisted. "They'll eventually adapt, make do of what they have and move on. You said it yourself, they're just puppies, they can't love."

"I've never said they can't love!" Cesc shouted, feeling anger flare in his chest every passing second. Though he's the one who said that they'd move on soon enough, it's just a silly theory he'd heard of. He felt sorry for the puppies for having to go through something they're not guilty of. He felt like he's responsible for their despondence so he became very protective now, also it felt like the one who had actually been tested here was him and not his dog.

"You implied enough," Gerard pointed out, imperturbable by his friend's fury. "And it's just another week, it couldn't harm them. They'd better get used to it actually in case-"

"You're playing with their hearts!" Cesc didn't wanna hear what case Gerard was thinking of, he didn't want to hear about a life without Gerard anymore.

"I'm playing with their instincts." How could Gerard be so scientific at this moment Cesc could never understand. He might argue further but he knew he'd never win this argument, and now he's too susceptible, the topic unnerved him too much and instead of Arsenal, he saw himself agonizingly dying inside.

A puppy might survive heartbreak but that doesn't mean he would, too.

***

"Iker."

David caught him on Monday morning, the class hadn't started yet.

"David." Iker smiled back, trying to make it sincere as much as possible. Sitting down at a desk beside him, the Londoner looked at the floor and sighed deeply. "How're things going?" The Spaniard asked when the English boy just kept silent.

"I'm lost," he replied.

Iker blinked. "What?"

He leaned in. "Well, we had lunch, then we went for ice creams. It sounds very simple, right? But I'm so nervous and kept doing the wrong things, like stammering or dropping my fork. Victoria just giggled, I don't know whether she minded."

"I think that's normal," Iker pointed out. "You like her, and it's your first date. Anybody would be nervous."

David swayed his body. "Can you go with me next time?" He blurted out.

Iker sighed. "David, you can't do it like that. It's your and Victoria's date, not mine."

"But I think the only person that could keep me calm is you," he contemplated.

"You'll learn to calm yourself eventually," the Spaniard said. "I can't be with you all the time."

David looked at him. "Why not?"

Iker froze. "Why not? Christ, David, because it's not working that way. You can't just drag me into your relationship, what will Victoria think?"

"Please."

That came unexpected, and Iker stared at the other boy. He saw uncertainty in the Londoner's eyes and he did look like a real lost puppy.

Iker's heart went weak for him again. "Fine." He sighed.

The gleeful look on David's face was worth it a thousand times over.

 

Victoria Adams didn't look happy just one bit.

The second date on the next weekend, they went to La Vaguada - a shopping mall. 'They' included Victoria, David and Iker, though the Spaniard kept the distance and always kept silent except when David asked him questions. David looked happier than on their first date, he kept blabbering on and on, and Victoria kept scowling.

They had lunch together, David sat next to Iker, Victoria on the opposite, they had pizza and David cut the pizzas and put them in Iker's plate, not hers. He kept asking Iker whether he'd like something more, but not her. After the meal, they strolled around the department store. Though they let Victoria choose the shops, tagged along uncomplaining and waited patiently when she went into the fitting room, she'd never felt this lonesome when she turned around and found David snickering with Iker while trying on their garments: hats or ties or whatever. Or when they chose to eat ice-cream and David seemed to be interested in which flavor Iker would like rather than her, or when they walked too much and was a bit tired, the English boy turned to ask Iker whether he'd like to sit and rest just a bit instead of asking her.

She didn't know why she's here.

It's not that she doesn't like Iker, he's David's friend and she'd rather get along with him if she wants David, which apparently she wants. David's handsome like some poster boys in teenage magazines though a bit nervous when he's with her. But this time he's so much better, he'd stopped stammering and dropping things so far, which Victoria wondered might be because of Iker. That might be the reason David had dragged his friend along, because Iker could calm him.

Still, there's this universal rule that everyone quite accepted that when you asked someone out on a date, it should involve only two or at least people in even numbers, not three like this. She felt like being the third wheel here instead of the Spaniard. But she didn't want to ruin the day though she'd been in a bad mood so far.

 

It went good for David but Iker knew Victoria didn't like his presence a bit, one could tell from the permanent grimace on her pretty face. But that wasn't his concern as long as his friend was happy, which apparently he was.

After strolling around the mall until late afternoon, Victoria said she needed to be home for dinner with a look at David promising that they would have a word about this later with the English boy's obvious oblivion. So Iker knew it's definitely not his place to tell when David joyfully slung his arm around the Spaniard shoulder's and said, "this is so fun! You'll have to come with us again next time."

This was so not fun that he's sure as hell Victoria might slip poison in his drink the very next time.

***

"Morning."

"Morning," Xabi smiled sincerely at Mikel. It's a bright Tuesday morning though the cool wind still shook him slightly. Mikel just arrived at Xabi's house to pick him up to school. Xabi had never been pampered by anyone before so he felt a bit weird.

"Err, have you have breakfast yet? Would you like to have something to eat?" He didn't even know what he had in the fridge, might be a bottle of milk or some sandwiches. He normally didn't have breakfast, and since the mysterious bag had ceased appearing at his locker every morning, he hadn't had it anymore.

To be honest, he missed it a bit.

He'd never talked about this to Mikel, either the breakfasts or the messages, and as time passed Xabi started to think that he'd figured it out all wrong. But then he'd already decided that he'd be together with Mikel, so he'd give it a try anyway.

"I already have it at home," Mikel said, smiling. "Have you? I can wait if you haven't, we still have time."

"Right." His stomach protested on the mention of food, the esoteric plastic bag had made itself quite a habit in Xabi's life already. Letting Mikel in, he walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. He found only fruits that could make do at this minute so he snatched a banana into his bag.

"You should've proper breakfast, you know?" Mikel started when they walked out of the house together. "Actually you can come have it at my house every morning if you want, my mom cooks."

"I'll think about it," Xabi said just to drop the subject.

At lunch break, Mikel also picked him up at his classroom to have lunch, with Mikel's friends or Xabi's friends or alone together. They talked about everything may it be food, weather, news, history, yet their favourite subjects were football and physics.

Mikel wasn't bad at science, he's quite genius at it actually. He applied to Faculty of Physics in many famous universities for further education and Xabi, ecstatic when discovering this, thought that was enough. That's what he wanted, wasn't it? Someone who could share his thought, participate in his passion, have something - especially forte in science - in common, the like-mind ones. On this level of knowledge, sometimes Xabi thought Mikel was Mr. Anonymous after all, it's just that he didn't want to disclose himself. Though as time passed, days into weeks, the thought of Mr. X was slowly fading away and Xabi started to think that it didn't matter after all whether Mikel was the one who sent him the messages or not because Mikel had the trait he's looking for anyway.

After some time, they became an item at school. Xabi's friends: Pepe Reina and Luis Garcia, teased him at first, but soon they got used to it and accepted Mikel into their circle quite easily. The same went to the English Phil Jagielka, the Dutch John Heitinga, and the Belgian Marouane Fellaini, how international, who were Mikel's chums.

As class ended every day, Mikel would wait for him out the door and they'd walk to Xabi's home together, some days they dropped by a restaurant for dinner, sometimes Mikel treated but most times they shared because Xabi thought Mikel shouldn't be the one who always paid. With these steps they're slowly taking together, Xabi was quite happy about it.

One day when they arrived at Xabi's home, Xabi turned around. "Good night and thank you for today." It's the same sentence he'd said every day that they'd spent together for about two weeks now. He's about to turn and get into the house when Mikel called,

"Xabi."

Before he knew it, Xabi was pulled close to the other Spaniard, Mikel's lips on his.

Finally. Xabi thought and closed his eyes.

He didn't feel butterflies in his stomach like the cheap romance novels always depicted, though.

***

It's Sunday.

Fernando had been trying, not that desperately, to strum through _'Hello'_ with his delicate fingers - as Agger had mildly put it - for so many nights in a row. Agger hadn't asked where he'd been practicing and how his practice was going, actually he only kept on absorbing in his own heavy metal performance until Fernando thought that the Dane had forgotten about him and his assignment altogether. But Fernando would not let anyone, especially himself, disappointed otherwise, so he practiced and practiced. He hauled Agger's Spanish guitar everywhere since Agger didn't seem to mind, to school so that on breaks or after classes, he could look at the sheet printed out from the Internet and strum while trying to recall the correct notes and the way to lie his fingers on the strings at each time. And when he was home - 'Agger's home,' actually - after dinner, he would occupy the living room if everyone decided to go up to their rooms early, or even the chilly porch if someone decided to stay down and watched the telly, until very late at night.

To say his perseverance had not paid off as he'd wished would be an understatement.

And so he was a bit surprised when he went up to Agger's room late after dinner and found the Dane sitting in his couch, waiting.

"Are you ready?" Agger asked as soon as Fernando shut the door behind then grinned like a wolf who had caught his prey. The Spaniard swallowed hard.

"I thought you had already forgot about this," he mumbled, shambled his way despondently to their bunk bed.

"Oh, how could I? With you lugging my precious around the town like that. Have you been taking noble care of it? Because if not-"

"Oh, please. Not even a scratch." Fernando rolled his eyes.

"Is that so?" Agger smirked lightheartedly, steepling his fingers together. "The floor is yours then."

Fernando swallowed again.

Sitting down on his bed, he put the guitar on it, too, unzipped its case and pulled it out. Agger was sitting very quietly, keeping eyes on the Spaniard. Fernando put the guitar in his lap, both hands at their ready positions: one holding the pick while the other holding its neck with his middle finger on the tight string ready to strike the first note. He hesitated before looking up uncertainly.

"Listen, this is my first-"

"For Christ's sake. Just shut up and do it, Torres," Agger snarled.

The Spaniard bit his lip, closed his eyes, inhaled deeply then started.

He played, and the world around him fell silent saved only for the melody he created. Agger's jaw dropped, he stared at Fernando disbelievingly because the Spaniard was playing it solo, unexpectedly. The tabs shifted fast but he's just a beginner after all so he's going rather slow though trying to stick to the correct rhythm as much as possible.

That's the Intro, then Verse 1 and then 2.

Sometimes in between, Fernando hummed along, it made him recall easier which note was next. He's nervous though acting otherwise, sweats even trickled down his forehead. But it's not that difficult, really, just similar to playing piano. Though the chords were another matter, they're not quite easy to remember, those would sure take time. At this point, this is easier than chords in his opinion, still he'd hit the notes wrong innumerable times already. Fernando kept his eyes on his hand, but even without looking up, he could feel Agger's gaze, not on his either hand on the Spanish guitar, but on his face.

The Spaniard started the Chorus self-consciously.

Agger leaned closer on the couch, watching Fernando intently. Like he's hypnotized by the Spaniard's lips, he caught on the rhythm and suddenly sang along the phrase,

"...Tell me how to win your heart for I haven't got a clue...,"

Fernando looked up in surprise, stopped humming all of a sudden. They stared at each other. Still, Agger continued whispering,

"...But let me start by saying..."

Then, like the past ten seconds was just a fraction of dream, he let the Spaniard finish that sentence with the Spanish guitar, alone.

Averting his eyes back to his hand, Fernando felt his cheeks heat up a bit, maybe because it's hot in here, like how his sweats were rolling down his temples. He didn't dare looking up again though he knew by every second that the intent gaze was still there. Finally he finished the song and they sat still for a while. The Dane looked at the Spaniard while the Spaniard looked at the floor, silence fell all around them.

He felt like Agger would say something like, 'where the hell did you get the tab?' or even 'Jesus, how the fuck could you do that?' Instead, when he eventually spoke up, he said, "come here."

The Spaniard looked up, confused. "What?"

"I said come here," Agger repeated calmly and patted the vacant space next to him on the couch. The Spaniard hesitated a bit then got up off the bed and walked to the Dane. He sat down and Agger suddenly scooted closer and put an arm around Fernando's back, the other laid on the Spaniard's hand which was holding the pick. Fernando stiffened immediately. "You're doing some of it wrong." Agger's soft voice was near his ear. His other hand with its arm behind Fernando's back caught the Spaniard's hand which was holding the guitar's neck softly. "In Verse 2, as the song says, 'and tell you time and time again how much I care’. At 'how much I care,' you should do it like this. It should be a bit different from the same part in Verse 1." He put his fingers on the correct positions one at a time while his other hand forced Fernando's hand to strum the pick on the right string. "See? Now do it on your own.”

"Okay," Whispering back, Fernando copied the Dane's doing with his heart beating fast. He had to repeat it a couple of times before he could put it correctly, with Agger's hand hovering near adjusting his fingers’ positions at times. He's feeling a bit dazed being in a boy's arms, with a boy's hands on his forcing them to hold and strum the guitar.

"That seems okay. Now there's this part..." And he perfectly played the difficult part between the first and the last choruses, which was fucking hard yet the Dane mastered it like it’s a piece of cake. He told Fernando to do it after he'd demonstrated. "Hold it tightly, Torres." Agger looked up from the guitar and their hands. His brows furrowed a bit, his left hand still on Fernando's but he didn't put any pressure on. Now the music seemed a bit out of tune because the Spaniard hadn't been paying much attention to the strings, but instead, the hand on him.

"Sorry," Fernando murmured, his face reddened when he realized where his thought had astrayed to. He tried to shift his focus back to the guitar and Agger calmly approved.

"There, like that," he said. "You need more practices so you can memorize them in your instinct. Your fingers need to move to the positions of correct tabs or chords automatically once you see the notes. You'll find that the difficult part for you might be to remember the chords since they're a bit different to piano chords...," and he blabbered on and on, his hands still on Fernando. No praise left his lips once but all his actions had spoken louder enough. The Spaniard tried to focus as much as he could, but then he's still dizzy from Agger's tenderness. It was wrong somehow: he in Agger's arms, in Agger's room, Agger's house. They weren't even friends. He wasn't supposed to be here in the first place. This whole situation, it's all wrong.

But then right now, why does it feel so right...to be so wrong?


	6. Chapter 6

He'd never known it would be like this.

The idea of having a lover had crossed his mind sometimes but Xabi had never thought of really having one. Every day he woke up, went to school and studied hard, then went home and studied more.

He'd never known it would be like this.

It sounded nice, the concept of having someone by your side most of the time, the feeling that you could rely on someone, that that particular someone would never leave you alone no matter what, he'd care for you, cherish you, even die for you, Xabi knew Mikel would do as much as that.

Is this the thing everyone called 'love'? Is only this enough? Someone says for the one he loves, he would do anything and wouldn't need anything else, he will cross the ocean, bring the moon. Love created the universe and could destroy the world, and someone would rather die without love.

Because love’s worth that much.

Then why does he still feel like there's something missing in his life, something he doesn't even know what it is?

It'd been three weeks since they're together. Being with Mikel was his habit now, they're together most of the time outside classes at school and no one looked at them twice, Mikel wasn't tiny, as well as Xabi, yet Mikel still treated him chivalrously until sometimes Xabi was genuinely mortified.

They're at Mikel's house, having dinner on a Saturday's night. Mikel's family was all there and Xabi sat beside the Basque. Though Xabi ate primly and conversed with others at the table with all the manners he got and they didn't intentionally touch or do anything intimate in front of all the Artetas, the look Amya, Mikel's sister, gave them was all-knowing, maybe the look in Mikel's eyes when he regarded Xabi gave it away. He's always like that, all infatuated and such until sometimes Xabi couldn't bring himself to look him in the eyes, because he's either shy, or scared.

Yes, he's scared, because the thing in the depth of Mikel's dark charming eyes, whatever it was, wasn't something Xabi had. Yes, he didn't yet know what it was, but what he knew better than any knowledge in this universe, was himself, and he knew when he had something, or hadn't.

His mobile rang once and Xabi fished it out instinctively. He opened the incoming message and his eyes went wide with the mix of so many feelings at the same time: disbelief, confusion, anger.

It's from that number, the number that hadn't texted him for a month, the number that even after a year of its absence, Xabi was certain he would still remember clearly in his mind.

The text was very simple, it read,

_'Hello, Xabi, how r u?'_

***

Two weeks had passed and Arsenal didn't die from heartbreak.

He's crestfallen on the first week, and was even more despondent on the second, he ate less and stopped playing, running, or even barking, just kept on sleeping the days away. Cesc didn't know what to do about it, he didn't want to talk to Gerard, and if he had to beg, the first thing out of his lips wouldn’t definitely be something about Chihuahuas.

Eventually, on the next Saturday, Gerard walked in with Bazooka in tow. Arsenal who'd been sleeping on the carpet in front of the telly had perked his ears up even before both Gerard and Bazooka walked past the door. When he eventually had them in his line of sight, he looked skeptically like he didn't believe his own eyes and reckoned the other puppy might simply be his illusion. Until Bazooka barked once, sending Arsenal bolt upright, then Bazooka cautiously scampered to his mate, tail wagging friendly and ears perking up. They approached one another with the sniffing routine like in new meetings, and when they're sure the other was their old mates who'd been separated for so long, Arsenal licked the other puppy's face and Bazooka kept nuzzling against the smaller and though they're not as gleeful as before, they're typically glued together since.

Cesc saw sad relief in Arsenal's eyes and it wrenched his heart a bit.

Gerard regarded them interestedly.

It'd been a week since Gerard dated Lionel. Playing football three times a week and being all together on the pitch, Cesc could clearly see the two’s closeness which was getting cozier every passing day. And when Gerard usually met up with Cesc after football, after school or any free time at all, now he just disappeared to only God knew where. When others asked where Gerard had gone, Cesc just shrugged, he didn't know and didn't wanna know.

Gerard talked about Lionel, but not much, and when he did talk, he looked very happy with what's going on. Cesc had never thought of himself as an altruistic type, yet he tried to tell himself that if Gerard's happy, he should be happy for Gerard, too.

It broke his heart, just a bit, he's sure he could handle it, no big deal.

And now Gerard walked to him, slouched in the couch beside him casually. "They don't forget each other," he mused, looking at the two puppies snuggling up against one another.

"Of course, they don't," Cesc replied, bit his tongue before saying that it's only two weeks anyway lest Gerard would think of disassociating them further.

"But they look awkward around each other, though, I bet they're asking one another via gesture where the hell the other had been."

"I wish they could give the reason why the other doesn't drop by as frequent as before." Cesc bit his lip, he's so egocentric that even when defending a puppy, he thought of himself instead.

How pathetic.

"We still see each other at least three days a week," Gerard said calmly. Cesc startled.

"What?"

"You asked why I didn't drop by as frequent as before, you know the reason, Cesc, and I think three days a week is pretty okay."

"We were talking about the Chihuahuas, weren't we?" Cesc raised his eyebrow though his heart was hammering inside.

"No, you were talking about us." Gerard got up off the couch and paced around the living room. "We're still friends, you know that, right Cesc? Even though I mightn’t see you as often as before, you remember when I told you just a couple of weeks ago that I don't think I can live without you? So that's that, I'll not live without you."

Cesc was befuddled. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I know you feel betrayed like I've left you behind, but it doesn't matter that I'm with Lionel or anyone, we'll still be friends, like, forever, you know that, right?"

Of course, I know that, things would never change, I would forever be your friend, would never become your lover or anything else.

"I know," Cesc answered with dry lips.

 

But things changed, and Cesc hated it very much.

They still met three days a week like Gerard had affirmed: on the pitch on Monday, Wednesday and Friday for football. But every time, Lionel was there, and though the tiny boy had always given them some spaces and knew better than to stick around when moody Cesc was there, Cesc still felt like being a third wheel. And though Gerard still dropped by on either Saturday or Sunday, not both like before, Cesc still felt painfully hollow inside, like someone had slowly and torturously ripped his heart out. Cesc hated taking buses and walking home alone, hated dinner without Gerard on Friday's night, hated being home with only Arsenal and not Bazooka and his owner and watched his Chihuahua being miserable for not meeting his mate just like himself. What he hated the most, though, was that he's feeling like going insane because of unrequited love.

And now he hated sitting here alone in the park, Arsenal lying by his feet, didn't feel like running or barking about either.

Cesc's staring at nothingness beyond the trees when a shadow lay upon him.

"Can I sit here?"

The voice wasn't familiar yet Cesc still found his heart beating fiercely. He turned around, to find a tall boy with dark hair but unfamiliar face. He had a leash in his hand and his Pug puppy was having so much interest in Arsenal by sniffing intently while Arsenal, very surprisingly, wagged his tail and sniffed back. Cesc quirked his brow. "Sure."

Sitting down beside him, the boy looked at their puppies, amused. "How old is he?" He asked.

"Three months," Cesc answered dismissively.

"Do you live around here?"

"Yeah." He's still inert, but the boy's badgering questions started annoying him somewhat.

"I live at Calle Braille,” the boy said, obviously oblivious to Cesc's irritation. "I'm Robin. Robin Van Persie," he smiled. "What's your name?"

***

Like he'd expected, Victoria wasn't happy about their last date. She told David that if he still wanted to bring Iker, he might as well date the Spaniard.

She had a point.

So when Victoria wanted to have dinner on a Wednesday's evening, David went alone.

Iker dallied with Álvaro Arbeloa, Francisco Pavon and Zinedine Zidane: three of his other close friends, before going home and doing his homework, helping his mum prepare dinner and after the whole family had finished, helped her wash the dishes then got up to his room to play games.

That's when the doorbell rang.

He hadn't paid any attention to it until there came knocks on his bedroom door. Iker quirked his brow. "Iker, David's downstairs," his mother's voice was heard through the door.

Iker's eyes widen. David? At....he glanced at the alarm clock on his headboard, 10 p.m., this time of night? The first awful thought that came to his mind was that something terrible might have happened.

Springing off his chair, he opened the door and sprinted down the stairs. The Londoner sat solemnly in a couch in the living room. "David," Iker greeted uncertainly.

"Iker." The English stood up. "I thought I'd just drop by before I get home."

"What happen?" Iker wasn't even sure he wanted to hear this.

"Can we go to your room?" There's pleading in his voice.

"Err, 'course." The Spaniard nodded and led them up the stairs.

Once Iker shut his bedroom door behind them, David blurted out, "I can't do this."

Iker raised his brow. "Do what?"

"This." David waved his hand at nothing in particular. "The date, I can't do it without you."

The Spaniard stared. "Why not?"

David slumped down on the foot of Iker's bed. "I don't know." He put his head in his hands, looking thoroughly desperate. "I like her, you know that, right? And I just couldn't be composed in front of her, not without you around. She noticed this, too, and asked what the fuck was wrong with me and why I didn't seem as happy as the last time we three went out together. She seemed furious when I told her that it would be better if you were there."

Iker snorted. "Serve you right. She must be hurt. Is she angry with you still?"

"Yes, she didn't say it out loud, but every word she said after that was curt, that means she's angry, right?"

"Had no better meaning," the Spaniard said. "Do you want something to drink? If you plan to stay long, anyway." He quirked his brow questioningly.

"Yeah, just water please, thank you," the Londoner murmured.

Iker went down to the kitchen and fetched two glasses of water. When he's back, David was wallowing in bed playing his mobile phone. "Get up, you fool." The Spaniard swatted the English boy's thigh, David sat up straight and Iker sat down beside him, handing him a glass of water.

"Thanks, mate." Taking the glass, the British gulped down loads. When he finally looked calmer, he asked, "what should we do?"

Iker startled. "We?" He paused. "You mean you and Victoria, right?"

"No, I mean you and me," David said hoarsely. "We have to do something about this."

"Me?" Iker straightened up. "Why should I do anything about it? It's your date, your relationship, your-"

Iker's voice was immediately cut off because David's lips had shut him up: the always-successful method.

Iker's stunned. The Londoner's lips were warm, tasted a bit like paprika and onion mixed together, must be from his dinner date. And when they moved against the Spaniard's lips, chills ran down Iker's spine and hazy images of that night they slept together screamed through his mind, tempted and aroused him enough that he grabbed David's shoulders, held him down on top of him and kissed back madly.

Two glasses of water that tumbled off their hands, wet the cover and landed ungainly on the carpeted floor couldn't startle him out of daze, nothing could.

He's so screwed.

***

Daniel didn't ask him to return his Spanish guitar so Fernando took it that he's free to use it when he liked to.

But that didn't mean they're on better terms, Agger's still his unbearable self, he blasted their bedroom with vehement performance every night. If Fernando wanted to do his homework or practice his new instrument, he'd have to do them downstairs. But then the Spaniard preferred staying upstairs ogling Agger.

It quite annoyed the Dane, though.

At school, they're still hostile towards one another. All of their friends didn't know about their roommating and Agger seemed satisfied to keep it that way. When his friends bullied Fernando from time to time out of boredom, the Dane would step away, didn't be a part of it yet didn't help him either.

Some days they went home together, just to shut up Mrs. Agger. But mostly Agger would have some other plans and came home only in time for dinner, and some days not, until Fernando started wondering where he had been.

One day, Agger came up to his room late after dinner time, the Spaniard's already there strumming through his new-picked song. "Hey," the Dane greeted, sitting in the couch across from their bunk bed and put his bag aside. "Show me what you've got."

That came out of nowhere, really. Fernando blinked. "What?"

Agger rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Show me what you've learnt so far, what song are you practicing just a minute ago?"

"Me?" The Spaniard was still dumbfounded.

"Yes, you. Whom the hell do you think I'm talking to?!" The Dane was irritated.

Fernando caressed the guitar in his arms anxiously. "But it's-"

"Torres," Agger scowled. "I asked you to play, that means I don't wanna hear your voice, so just shut up and do what I asked."

The Spaniard wrinkled his nose, and with Agger's coercion and his disinclination, he solo played the song he'd been practicing after _'Hello'_. He'd liked this song for ages but really didn't want to play it in front of Agger. It's kinda..., he had to admit it, gay.

He held Agger's Spanish guitar in his lap and played the song: Toni Braxton's _'Spanish Guitar'._

Hell, he could even tell from Agger's smirk what he'd have to face afterwards.

Fernando hadn't mastered it yet, but he could strum through the song without too many mistakes. His face heated up when he thought about the lyrics, it's quite embarrassing, especially the Chorus, that was a bit too true to admit even to himself...

When the song ended, the Dane sneered, "queer."

"Fuckwit," the Spaniard retaliated immediately. Agger smiled but didn't refute anything further. When the silence was a bit uncomfortable, Fernando asked, "umm, what do you think?"

"Hmm," the Dane mused. "About you? Fine."

Fernando blushed, trying not to think what the answer could imply. "I've never heard you play a slow song," he said. "Care to show some?"

Agger slouched in the couch. "What do you want to hear?"

"Anything," Fernando answered too fast.

The Dane frowned like he's actually thinking hard for a while, then smirked. He got up to snatch the Spanish guitar from the Spaniard's lap then strode two strides back to the couch. "Let's hear this." He strummed. Fernando frowned, sitting still to listen for a time before he could eventually catch the rhythm.

It's John Legend's _'Tonight'_.

He didn't sing, nor did Fernando. But he stood up when the Chorus came, through the strings, the song said,

_'Baby, tonight's the night I let you know,_   
_Baby, tonight's the night we lose control...,"_

Shit, he didn't know why his heart was beating this fast. It's just a song Agger chose, without singing even. The lyrics were on his mind, and what he thought they might imply was just his lone delusion. Yet the smirk on the Dane's face when he played the notes, _'I don't wanna brag, but I'll be best you've ever had'_ , was so obvious it turned his stomach upside down.

"End." Agger finished the song with a flourish. The Spaniard clapped dully.

"Lay it on thick," he murmured.

"Why do you think that?" The Dane raised his brow, feigning asking out of curiosity. "Do you want a proof?"

"Oh, fuck off, Agger!" Fernando threw a pillow at the other boy, it almost hit him in the face but the Dane's quick reflex caught it. He snarled,

"You want this, Torres?" And without waiting for a reply, he leapt at the Spaniard.

The jump came a bit unexpected and the Dane sent him splay out on his back on the bed. Fernando gaped but didn't have enough time to realize what actually had just happened when Agger pushed the pillow down on his face like to put him out of breath. Fernando fought back, pushing and kicking and the Danish boy laughed joyously. Straddling the Spaniard, he’s exuding his weight on Fernando's waist and the Spaniard had just realized the acute disparity in their masses despite the similarity in size.

Agger's much stronger.

"Let me go!" Fernando muffledly screamed, and the Dane just laughed and laughed. The Spaniard gritted his teeth, congregated all his might and flipped Agger over. Unpredictably he succeeded, and the Dane was trapped under him with the unexpected turn of events, the problematic pillow bounced off somewhere. Agger blinked up at him bewilderedly and Fernando cursed under his breath for the distance between their noses, or the lack there of.

He also felt the Dane's breathlessness from under him, and maybe the quick rhythm of heart races. Staring at one another in shock stillness, they're so close until Fernando could feel Agger's slow breaths on his lips and he well realized that if he could feel them, the Dane could have felt his, too.

In his head, there's only one word, 'shit'.

Then his mobile rang.

It brought Fernando's mind back to the world, and it required quite a couple of seconds to get rid of the daze until he recalled where he'd left it. It's in his bag, so the Spaniard shifted to get up off Agger. Then something caught the back of his neck: a callous hand, and a husky voice whispered, "Fernando," before he's pulled back and something wet crushed his lips: a pair of the same thing.

There's still one word in his head and it's capitalized now.

SHIT.


	7. Chapter 7

Cesc Fàbregas used to have girlfriends.

There were two. One was when he's in 6th grade, he's her first love. It was a puppy love. He didn't even know the concept of love at the time, he asked her out because she's pretty enough. She's a brunette, as tall as him, had deep brown eyes and succulent lips.  
Her name was Thalia.

They broke up because they went to different secondary schools, the distance kept them apart.

His second girlfriend came in 7th grade, a while after his and Thalia’s separation. Her name was Daniella, a Lebanese girl with dark hair and tanned skin. They're together for almost two years.  
Then Cesc broke up with her.

Because he then understood what that everyone called 'love' was all about and realized that what he felt for Daniella wasn’t even close to what he felt for one of his friends: his male friends.

Cesc's life had been screwed ever since.

He'd never thought of being homosexual before. He had a happy family, wasn't bad at studying and was even better at sports, his friends love him. Overall he had a happy life. Then why? WHY?

But what he felt for his best friend was unmistakable, undeniable. Hammers in his heart, butterflies in his stomach, blank anxiety in his head, every reflex his body screamed when the other boy was near was an enough telltale sign. He'd never felt like this with Daniella or Thalia or anybody else, and Cesc wasn't a denial person.

He knew it had always been Gerard Piqué.

It'd been two years since he realized what’s in his head for only God knew how long, and he couldn't get rid of it. He'd never thought of telling Gerard, though. They'd been friends for too long and being with him was natural. Gerard had never had lovers, neither girls nor boys, not that he knew of, so Cesc had never thought of them being apart before.

Not until now.

"I'm Cesc," he answered after a moment of hesitation. Van Persie grinned.

"Nice to meet you." He held out a hand and Cesc caught it for a casual shake. "You come here often?"

"Quite." Cesc shrugged, trying to be friendlier despite not in the mood since the other boy didn't seem to leave him alone soon.

"Me, too. Captain’s quite energetic, he needs lots of exercises." Van Persie gestured to the Pug who was barking playfully at Arsenal, an invitation for some gambols.

"Captain? That's cute." Cesc looked at the Pug, smiling automatically at its cheerfulness.

"Yes, how about yours? Is it him or her?" Van Persie regarded the Chihuahua adoringly.

"Him. His name's Arsenal."

"Sounds powerful," he commented. "Where do you study?"

"Sagrado Corazon. You?"

"Fomento El Prado," the boy answered.

There was silence.

"Well, I think I'll take a walk." Cesc stood up. "Would you want to?"

"Sure." Smiling, Van Persie got up, leash in hand. Captain was frolicking when the four of them walked along together. "Which grade are you in?" he asked.  
"Tenth."

"Oh, I'm twelfth. Tenth grade is quite the fun phase. When you hit twelfth grade, all you think about will be what you'll do with life."

"Do you?" Cesc quirked his eyebrow.

"Yes, though my image doesn't fit with the notion of academic purpose, I quite excel at a lot of things scholastic." He grinned which Cesc thought was quite charming.

"What do you want to study in the uni?" asked Cesc.

"I've already applied for Computer Science," he said, "and Chemical Engineering."

"Which university?"

"Several, but I prefer UPM. They're the best around here for the Engineering faculty."

"If you're so into Engineering, maybe you should consider universities in Germany," Cesc pointed out.

"I'm not very excellent at English, let alone German." He chuckled. "I might consider some in Holland, there are some which are quite famous for Engineering, too, like Delft."

"Right, I notice your last name."

"I'm Dutch," Van Persie confirmed, "but been here since eleven."

"Your parents are expats?"

"Yes, my dad works at DSM."

"I see."

"You know, actually, I've seen you a couple of times here before. But normally you're with another boy."

Cesc grimaced. "He won't come again."

"Did you guys have a fight?"

"No," he snapped.

"Well, is he your boyfriend? Or was?"

The question took Cesc off guard, he went stock-still on the winding path. "Err, no." Blushed scarlet, too.

"Well, that's good." Van Persie winked. "What are your hobbies? Besides petting a Chihuahua."

Cesc was reckoning something along the line of 'thinking about Gerard Piqué’, but he replied, "Football, I guess."

"For real? I'm a biggest fan, too. What team do you support?"

"FC Barcelona. You?"

And they chatted while walking around the park, their puppies capering about and leading the way. When it's getting late, Cesc announced that he had to get home.

"I'll walk you home." Van Persie grinned his charming grin.

So the Dutch walked the Spaniard home though their house were on different paths, he asked for Cesc’s number when they arrived at the Fàbregas' door, so that they could meet for a walk again, he said.

Cesc gave it to him.

"Good night, Cesc." Van Persie smiled charmingly.

That's not bad at all, Cesc thought while shutting the door behind him, he'd had a nice walk and a good time. If he's sure he's bent and would stick to this path anyway, he could try. Van Persie wasn't a girl, and Cesc had never tried relationships with someone without boobs before, maybe he might like this boy eventually.

Just maybe.

***

Fernando didn't know what was happening.

His whole universe went blank, was squeezed into a sole space and time like he's now squeezed in Agger's tight embrace. The Dane's lips were on his and his mind's reeling hard trying to piece the puzzles together.

Agger was kissing him. What? Why?!

As Fernando's brain spun in sweet dizziness, the Dane deepened the kiss. He crushed their mouths together like to emphasize the feeling, sucked the Spaniard's lower lip and Fernando instinctively slightly parted his mouth, which Agger didn't wait for a second to shove his tongue in.

The Spaniard gasped, the Dane's hands clutched both sides of his waist and impassionedly stroked his back, hips, down to his perfect arse, and Fernando was aroused by every minute of every move. He moaned weakly into the Dane's mouth, their pants were the only other sound, and he went limp further as Agger got bolder and squashed his arse as well as pushing it down so that their groins pressed against each other, and Fernando almost bit the Dane's lower lip at the sweltering contact even through the rough fabric of their jeans, he could feel Agger's hardness under his and didn't even want to know his own condition.

Agger broke the kiss and panted heavily. His lips trailed along the Spaniard's freckly cheek to his ear, his chest heaved violently and his skin against Fernando's face was feverish. Then he intentionally pulled the Spaniard's hips to crush harder against his and Fernando jerked at the same time as Agger hissed the exactly same thing he had in his hazy mind, "fuck."

The first alien sound in the almost-eternity of heavy breaths and staggering moans suddenly drove all the fog in his mind away. The madness of the situation hit him and the idea of Agger actually 'fuck'ing him scared him to his marrow, though it's not all unpleasantly. Fernando abruptly sprang up, all his weight suddenly loaded onto Agger's crotch. The Dane gasped aloud, his hands tightened on the blonde’s hips and rocked them back and forth instinctively.

"Agger, Agger stop!" Fernando squeezed his eyes shut, laboring his breaths. His hands caught the Dane's wrists, stilling them. "What are we doing?!"

"Dry humping?" Agger suggested in a rough voice. He pushed himself up and before Fernando could blink, he found his back hitting the mattress: he under the Dane, their heads at the foot of the bed and his legs tangling around Agger's waist.

This is no good.

"Agger," the Spaniard protested weakly as Agger moved and the crashing waves of lust were almost unbearable. Fernando gritted his teeth fighting the blind ecstasy, his hands clutched the Dane's shirt. Agger's hot breaths singed the side of his throat, he's explicitly struggling with himself.

"Can I have you?" Agger asked dryly.

Fernando immediately snapped his drooping eyelids open. "What?!" He intended it to be a screech but it came out a bit wrong: raspy and sotto voce. Agger didn't answer or ask anything again but grinding their hips together to reassert his point. The Spaniard jolted and needed no further voicing request. He shoved the Dane off with all his feeble might - unexpectedly successful – and ground out, "hell, no!" Then he sat up right, trembling slightly. Agger sat there facing him. Their cheeks flushed and both were huffing turbulently.

Finally the Dane asked weakly, "why not?"

Fernando's still shivering, he wanted to hit something. "Why not?!" He repeated incredulously. "Do you even have an idea what you're doing?!" He yelled, more composed than ever when he didn't have the other boy's evidence of arousal throbbing against his.

"No, but how different could it be from with girls?" Agger's voice was still thick and he looked like he could lunge at the Spaniard again anytime. Fernando saw the necessity to be out in the open as fast as he could. Springing out of bed, he left the Dane who's too torpid to impede him in the lower bunk.

"What?!" With unrestricted space and sufficient distance, Fernando felt he could shout more menacingly as well as thinking more clearly about what'd just happened between them. Raking his hand through disheveled blond hair distraughtly, he tried to even the raving beats of his heart. "For one thing, Agger, I've never known you swing that way." The thought made him shiver but he’s quite certain not because of revulsion. He dismissed it fast enough.

"I don't!" Agger looked ghastly offended, eyes blazing with fire of either anger or desire, or both. "But you do."

"What?! What the fuck is this all about?!" Fernando squawked. "I'm not gay!"

"'Course you're," the Dane hissed through gritted teeth. The Spaniard's dumbstruck for a minute, then took in a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Agger, listen to me. I'M. NOT. GAY," he enunciated.

"Then what do you explain all this?" Agger gestured his hand at nothing in particular. Fernando gawked.

"Bastard. You started it!"

"You kissed me back," Agger retaliated, his lips still swollen from the said crime.

"I did not!" Fernando countered immediately.

They glared at each other challengingly, the Dane didn't reply and the room fell seethingly silent for a while. Their breaths were still irregular. Fernando didn't know about Agger, but for him, the lust had slightly subdued and the current struggling for oxygen was mainly due to exasperation.

"You think so?" The Dane raised his eyebrow and the eventual question from him didn't make the situation any better. Fernando chewed on his lower lip.

"I'm sure about it." But even when he confirmed the notion, a cryptic doubt popped up in his mind, is he?

A smirk on Agger's freckly face was a bit unforeseen and Fernando was taken aback. The Dane got up off the bed, smoothing out the creases of his t-shirt. He didn't seem skeptical for now but as he passed the stock-still Spaniard in the middle of the room, the closeness of his burning whisper prickled Fernando's nape and scorched his ear.

"We'll see."

***

Xabi was thunderstruck.

He stared blankly at his mobile for a very long time until Mikel asked, "Baby, what's wrong?" that he realized where he was.

"Nothing." Putting his phone back in his pocket, he smiled bitterly at everyone around the table then engaged in the conversations once again.

Yet he would never forget what he had to do.

 

The first thing Xabi did after stepping into his home after a walk back from the Artetas' household with Mikel was fishing his phone out. He opened the message, staring at it some more before typing,

_'Who r u?'_

He waited a while with a hammering heart before his mobile beeped again.

_'I thought we agreed not to talk about this. ;)'_

With that, Xabi got angry, he'd never agreed to such a thing. _'Y didn't u tell me u’r not Mikel?'_ He furiously typed back and waited. A minute passed.

_'U've never asked.'_

Xabi pressed his lips. _'U stood me up. U didn't show up behind the gym that day.'_

_'No, I was there.'_

The Basque’s confused. _'I checked. No one was there.'_

_'That was after Arteta accosted u.'_

Xabi felt like an idiot by every second. _'And u left because of Mikel. Y was that may I ask?'_

_'Because he had something very important to say to u.'_

_'And u didn't have?'_

_'That could wait.'_

Xabi gritted his teeth in irritation. _'And I assume after a month, u've waited long enough?'_

_'U could say that.'_

This was getting annoying. _'Tell me what u have 2 say.'_

_'U haven't answered my question.'_

Xabi's brows knitted together now. _'What question?'_

_'The 'Hello, how r u?' one.'_

The Basque sighed. _'I'm okay.'_

_'How r u with Arteta?'_

Now that's interesting. _'What does this have anything 2 do with Mikel?'_

_'Mayb bcos he's ur boyfriend?'_

Xabi was about to type that the reason he's with Mikel in the first place was because he thought Mikel was ‘him’ but resisted, that would be too cruel for Mikel. Instead he typed, _'We're fine'._

 _'Good 4 u then.'_ The reply was simple.

 _'Do u still want 2 meet?'_ The Spaniard held his breath after sending that question, waiting anxiously.

_'Not now.'_

His eyes widened and his hands shook. What? Why?! _'Y not?'_ He felt really unconfident now.

_'Cos u r with Arteta, and I don't want 2 b a problem 2 u.'_

Xabi stared at his mobile screen some more disbelievingly. Another message came after a minute of hush. _‘Can I ask u something?'_

 _'Go on,'_ Xabi typed.

_'Which type of radioactive decay doesn't change the atomic number?'_

The Basque rolled his eyes but smiled, so this was how they would fall back into the routine. If the other wanted it like this, he had no reason to decline.

And now we reached nuclear physics level, what a progress. _'Gamma. Am I correct?'_

_'U r always brilliant, Xabi Alonso.'_

Xabi waited three minutes more, and when he's sure his conversationalist had decided to drop the subject for the day, he typed, _'When will I meet u?'_

A minute passed and a message came,

_'Soon. ;)'_

***

The room was smoldering despite the chill of October. He felt wet, because of the spilled water on the cover and his skin, and felt raw, because David's callous hands that stroked his chest through his t-shirt and raked his messy hair brought his primitive instinct to the surface. The world around them was bright from a bulb on the ceiling and all the pictures were clearly vivid as well as all the scents and touches: David's light stubbles that brushed his cheeks, David's odor which was the mix of salty sweat and peppermint bark from the soap he used and BVLGARI Black cologne he wore, David's bright blond hair that glowed in the yellowish LED light, David's sweats that wet his forehead, David's heart that beat against his, David's, David...

Everything about David made him light-headed in the meantime he remembered every detail correctly like he'd captured every moment with his mind, unlike last time. The wetness of David's lips against his was intoxicating, the heat of David's skin was mind-blowing and everything screamed sex.

"Iker..." David detached his lips and panted in the Spaniard's ear. Iker huffed, the deprivation of the English's lips was like quitting drugs and would certainly lead him to experience a withdrawal so the Spaniard caught David's nape and pulled him down.

"Stop talking," he whispered before crushing their lips together again.

The kiss was longer and deeper this time. When David thrust his tongue in Iker's mouth, he felt like he might explode. He moaned which sounded like a growl, and his hips bucked up instinctively. The Londoner gasped and broke the contact again. "Gosh, Iker, that was-"

He couldn't finish the sentence because the Spaniard bucked his hips again and the delicious friction was almost unbearable. David gasped again.

"I said, 'shut up'." Iker gritted his teeth. His hands slid down the English boy's arms and waist to the hem of his shirt, tugged it and pulled. David raised his arms up so the other could take his shirt off.

David's chest was solid and its sweat-sleekness gleamed in the light. Iker's breath hitched as his eyes tracked the Londoner's abs down to the slight coarse blond hair on his lower belly which disappeared under the edge of his jeans.

The last time they had sex, the room was dark. Now that it's bright and clear, Iker found his heart drumming to the expectation of the upcoming perspective. That thing under those jeans was visibly straining for freedom against the rough fabric. In Iker's mind, he blearily recalled the sensation of it breaching him, how painful, inside him, how fitting, thrusting in and out of him, how drunkenly wonderful it actually felt. David's hung, and his mind screamed to see it, touch it, have it in him once again no matter how err it sounded. His hand followed his thought, it rose to stroke David's face, at which the English turned to kiss adoringly, then down to the strong shoulder, firm chest, muscular stomach, ran through coarse blond hair and, unwaveringly, stopped still on the bulge of David's trouser.

The Londoner's breath caught but the challenge in his eyes glistened daringly in the LED light. There's only a moment of hesitation before Iker squeezed the hardness in his hand. David jerked and huffed, his head dropped to snuggle against the Spaniard's neck. "Take off your clothes," he hissed.

"Take off your jeans," Iker hissed back in David's ear.

He could feel the English’s quirked-up lips against his cheek. "Could you do it for me?"

The Spaniard felt his cheeks flush at the thought but dipped his hands down to David's buckle nonetheless. The Spaniard unfastened the belt and unzipped the jeans. David's left hand laid on Iker's right one, helping as he struggled out of his denim and y-front.

The sight made the Spaniard’s heart skip a beat: David's erection at its full-length. The English's cheeks blushed as he caught Iker gawking at his bits so he hastily grabbed the hem of the Spaniard's shirt and pulled it up. Iker caught on and took it off while David turned to fumble with the Spaniard's belt. He took off Iker's pants and the Spaniard felt totally exposed lying there under the bright light in the middle of the night.

He didn't have to be embarrassed about his nudity long because David lowered himself and covered the core of his uneasiness by taking its head in the heat of his mouth.

Iker bolted and gasped in shock, the cave of David's mouth was inflamed but instead of melting in there, the Spaniard felt that his erection was even more rigid. And when the Londoner's lips slid down his shaft, taking it all to the back of his throat, Iker wanted as much to scream but he bit his lower lip, letting slip only whimpering moans.

David drew his mouth away when the Spaniard's length was dripping wet leaving Iker lay panting heavily. The English asked very softly and huskily,

"Could you do that for me, too?"

Iker was apprehensive but he nodded, anyway. Lying down on his back beside the Spaniard, the English caught the other boy's shoulder, encouraging him to get down to his crotch and on his knees. Iker obeyed but he had no experience with the thing in front of him or actually anything at all and David could see right through his tension. "It's okay," David reassured gently, his fingers brushed Iker's damp hair off his eyes, so tenderly like he actually cared. "I just need you to wet it, just like I did to yours. You needn't worry about making me feel good or anything."

But Iker did worry and he tried his best to keep his sharp teeth away from David's hardened flesh. There were once or twice that they grazed too harshly and he could feel David's hand in his hair tighten as well as the hisses, but after that the British would caress his hair supportively once more.

"Okay, that's enough," David said and gently pulled Iker by his hair away from his groin. He shifted their positions: Iker down on his back and the English on top of him once again. "I-I'll-" David stumbled against the other's ear, Iker interrupted,

"David, just do it." With that, he realized that his voice was scratchy, too. But David did stop blabbering and instead, lowered his hands to catch the Spaniard's thighs to push them up, and Iker submitted.

It took a while before the Londoner found the right place to push and breach, and what Iker could do to halt his scream was biting his lip and digging his nails into David's back. When the English was all the way in at last, they're both trembling violently. David started, "Iker...,"

The Spaniard caught David's cheeks with both hands and crushed their lips together with all the passion because he didn't want to hear anything anymore.

Iker remembered everything within fifteen minutes after that very clearly, and for him, it felt like their first time more than their real first time.


	8. Chapter 8

"This is Robin."

Cesc introduced the Dutch to his football teammates on a sunny Friday evening. Robin grinned his most charming grin while the Spaniard introduced his friends one by one. "Robin's from Fomento El Prado," he finished.

"That's why your face's unfamiliar." A twelfth-grade student, Mikel Arteta, said. "But you're welcome on our pitch anytime. Normally we play on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, depends on whoever is free."

"What position do you play?" Bojan asked.

"Striker, usually," Robin answered. "But I could play forward midfield if there's no striker position left."

"No, that'd be fine. You can play with Cesc, he does midfield." Carles Puyol jumped down from the table he'd been sitting crossed-legged on. "The other team will have Lionel and..., Alonso doesn't come?"

"He wants to study today." Arteta shrugged.

"Nerd," Sergio Ramos murmured.

"Hey!" Arteta threatened and Sergio raised his hands in mock-surrender.

"I forgot that we have to talk only good things about him in front of you," he gibed.

"Enough, both of you," Carles snarled. "Let's start the game."

Cesc and Gerard ended up in different teams and that meant Cesc would have to confront the taller Catalan who played centre-back. He tried to focus only on Robin and scoring tonight, and he wasn't disappointed as realizing as the game went on how skilled the Dutch actually was in the position he played.

The game ended with 4-3, their team won. With Lionel as the contender, this score wasn't bad at all.

"That's impressive," Gerard walked up to Cesc while others were gathering around the talented newcomer to chat him up. "He makes me think of Fernando, that Niño doesn't come here as often as he should."

"I heard he's too obsessed with guitar lately, he lugged it all around," Cesc said, walking up to the bench where he put his bag. "He makes me think of Beckham, too."

"Oh, that one's too obsessed with chicks," Gerard chuckled. "Where did you meet him?"

"Robin?" He fetched a towel out of his bag, wiping his clammy face with it.

"Yeah." Gerard still looked at the Dutch kicking the ball gleefully in the middle of everyone's attention.

"At the park, he went there to walk his dog," Cesc answered.

"Really?" He turned to look at Cesc. "Which breed?"

"Pug."

"Good," Gerard said. "Is he flirting with you?"

That came a bit unforeseen, Cesc was taken aback. "What?"

"Well, is Robin flirting with you?" Gerard looked him in the eyes. Cesc found his face heating up.

"Well, that's none of your concern," he muttered.

There was silence, then Gerard blurted out, "I thought you like girls."

Cesc was perplexed. "Well, there's you and Lionel."

"No, we're talking about you."

Now that annoyed Cesc, the way Gerard always cornered him. He was thinking about from where all these questions had come and to where they would lead, when a voice said, "hello."  
Robin arrived at the bench, smiling widely. He looked from one boy to the other. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Of course not." Gerard gritted his teeth.

"Well, if you insist." Robin turned to Gerard. "You're Piqué, right?"

"Gerard." He held out his hand and the Dutch took it.

"Robin. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

"Well, would you like some dinners, Cesc? My treat." The Dutch suddenly turned to Cesc. "You can come, too, if you want, Gerard."

Cesc reckoned Gerard was thinking something along the line of 'your treat?', but he knew properness enough to hold his tongue. "Nah, I think I'll leave you guys alone." Then Cesc saw Lionel walking up this way, too. "See you around then." And he fled to the tiny striker.

"What would you like to have?" Robin slung his bag across his shoulder. "I know this restaurant you might like, Mexican, but it's a bit away so we might have to take a bus, it's near my school. I'll send you home afterwards. Would you like to try?"

"Sure," Cesc answered with not as much certainty as he should feel. He knew that question was meant to be about dinner yet its hidden meaning echoed in his skull over and over.

‘Would you like to try?’

He'd decided since the first time he met Robin that he'd try. Actually, it might be easier to like another boy than another girl and he would finally forget Gerard. But Gerard's questions earlier troubled him, why did he ask him like that? How does he liking boys matter since Gerard also likes boys? Why does Robin flirting with him mean anything since Gerard likes Lionel anyway?

But why couldn't it be me, Gerard?

Tears oozed up in his eyes as he walked with the Dutch to the bus-stop. He would try this, sure as hell, he'd do it, he had decided that now. He'd date Robin and be whatever he wants him to be.

So he would be able to fall in love with someone else rather than Gerard after all.

***

Iker knew David wasn't a virgin.

Twice with him excluded, of course. They're in their last year of the secondary school, and David, as everyone might have guessed, a blond English boy with Greek-sculptured body, so-freaking handsome face and a popular football star on school pitch that he was, didn't have to shed a sweat for a beautiful lass willingly walking by his side, or several in this case. Since Iker first befriended him in 8th grade, around a dozen of girls had passed David by, varied from the same age up to undergraduates. Yes, he's that handsome. Though he'd never got into detail about what he did with all those girls, the glow and smugness he wore afterwards was an indication enough.

One might think that a sex god like David wouldn't need any assistance regarding love life, but the problem was he'd never said he actually 'like' anyone, let alone 'love'. When someone asked if he liked the girl he's with, any at the time, he'd just say she's fine. He'd never been the first to make a move, never asked anyone out. David's no player, if one could say that, all his loves and sex life before happened because those girls chased him first and he didn't see why he should reject them.

That's why he's so nervous about Victoria, she's the first and only one David had paid very much attention to and said he really liked, but he had no idea how to really pursue a girl, how to please her because he'd never had to please one. That's why he needed Iker's moral support, which Iker, less experience in love and none-at-all in sex, couldn't advise much. However, David didn't need much counsel, only Iker's presence seemed to be enough.

And now Iker was looking at David, lying on his back by his side. His left arm lay across the sheets as a makeshift pillow for Iker and he's snoring softly. He'd turned off the light before taking a nap as they both were very exhausted, and the dim light that illuminated the room was from street lamps casting in through the window, yet it's bright enough to see that David looked very content in his sleep. He didn't want to interrupt his comfortable slumber and wake the other boy up, but it's late now, his alarm clock told him it's past midnight at this point and they had classes tomorrow, David shouldn't sleep over here.

"Dave," Iker called out, softly at first. There's no reaction from the English sleeper. "David," louder this time. He shifted to look at the Londoner more conveniently, David still didn't stir. "Wake up, you fool." He laid his hand on the British's stubbly cheek, and for that David did budge.

He opened his eyes.

It had taken half a minute before his eyes adjusted to the dimness and his brain comprehended where he was. He slowly turned to the Spaniard, and for a second Iker feared what would be visible in David's eyes. But what he saw in the depth of hazel intensity was no regret, just a glint of another thing that made Iker's heart jump in his throat:

Affection.

"Hey." The Londoner stretched lazily, his left hand caught the Spaniard's shoulder and hauled him into a cuddle. Iker blushed red. "What's up?" He mumbled against Iker's flushed cheek.

"David, it's midnight." The Spaniard tried so hard to compose but he didn't want to push David away, not now, not ever. The English boy stiffened.

"Shit," he cursed, broke their embrace and rolled out of bed, heedless of his own nakedness. He fished for mobile phone in his jeans. "Five missed calls, my mum would kill me." He grabbed his garments and tried to put them all on at once. "I’ve gotta go."

"I know," Iker said, his fingers curled around the edge of the blanket, dragging it to cover himself.

"See you tomorrow." He held his bag and was about to stalk out of the room then changed his mind. Turning, he walked around to Iker's side of bed.

"What-" The Spaniard was cut off immediately by David's lips that sealed the kiss.

"Good night," he said softly. Then he's gone.

Iker didn't know what was going on. Since David stepped in his house at 10 p.m. tonight until now, he'd done everything stimulated by impulses, the English's lure blinded him so he didn't seek for meaning behind. But now that David had left him alone, he stared at the closed door after the Londoner, licking his lips wistfully, still feeling a bit hypnotized, he really wondered what it would be like...

...to be in love with your best friend...

***

Gerard and Bazooka came to Cesc's place on Saturday.

Arsenal's peppy, as usual whenever Bazooka's around. They chased each other around the living room, it's the only time of the week they could be gleeful together because Gerard didn't bring the other Chihuahua here that often.

Not anymore.

Arsenal coped with that fact better day by day but Cesc could still notice melancholy in his eyes when he regarded Cesc deploringly like he knew Cesc's the reason for the negligence, in his tail that tugged hopelessly between his hind legs, and actually in his every gesture.

It hurt to see him despondent, it pained even more to admit that everything that's happening to Arsenal was happening to him, too, his eyes were the reflection of Arsenal's, his shoulders imitated the sag of the Chihuahua's tail, and every gesture of him screamed despair.

Gerard's a bit startled when he saw Cesc's face, with blackness under the eyes and pallid skin. "Cesc, what happened?"

Cesc didn't know what to answer that would not affect anyone, so he just said, "nothing."

"Are you sure?" Gerard sat down on his usual spot in the couch. "You look like you haven't slept last night."

"Do I?" Cesc asked gloomily.

"Does it have anything to do with Robin the Boy Wonder?"

The way Gerard said it made his face heat up but not because of embarrassment. He wanted so bad to say that it had nothing to do with the Boy Wonder, rather, it had everything to do with the questioner.

But he'd rather say nothing about it, about what he felt, what he thought, what he'd rather do. He wouldn't risk their friendship, not when the other was Gerard Piqué, the boy whom he'd known for fifteen years, who's his best friend. He wouldn't put something they'd had for a very long time on a thin line, especially when Gerard apparently manifested that the one he liked was Lionel Messi.

And not Cesc Fàbregas.

So he simply answered, "It has nothing to do with him."

Gerard went silent for a moment, looked at his toenail while asking, "You’re okay with him, right?"

Cesc took in a deep breath, if he wanted to play this, he'd rather play it whole. "Yeah."

"Good for you then," Gerard said with an unreadable expression.

***

When he started to feel about here a bit like home, the table had to turn on him.

Now Fernando didn't even want to step past the threshold of the Aggers' house, not only he feared Agger's notorious wrath, he also scared of the other boy's sensual seduction, if there would ever be one. Not that Fernando thought Agger would be good at it or anything, it's just that he'd rather not put himself in a situation that he had to fight with himself besides Agger.

Yes, it's tempting that much.

He could resist it the first time, didn't mean he could resist it the second time. Gay or not, he wouldn't stay still acting like a dead pray waiting for the hyena-Agger to attack. Just studying and sleeping in the same room was bad enough, Fernando wanted to spend time in his vicinity as least as possible.

So the next day after class, the Spaniard dawdled on the pitch, playing football with his mates which he hadn't done in quite a while. After two sweaty games and the players: varied from 10th to 12th grade, had called it a day, he went straight to his home - his own home. He sat in the living room, turned on the telly and tried to do his homework. He's thinking about calling Mrs. Agger that he would have dinner out because he didn't want to face the Danish boy at the dining table, but the problem was he didn't know how to cook.

That was when the doorbell rang.

Fernando quirked his brow, who the hell came at this hour? It's almost seven anyway. The Spaniard got up, sauntered to the door and peeped through the peephole. What he saw made his heart jump in his throat.

Daniel Agger was there on his doorstep.

What the fuck is he doing here?!

Fernando hesitated, thinking about pretending no one's in the house, but the bell rang again and he knew Agger wouldn't stop easily. He sighed and opened the door.

Agger blinked, seemed like he half-expected that someone would actually open the door.

"What do you want?" The Spaniard ground out between gritted teeth, he held the door open only enough to see the Dane's face.

Agger smirked. "Won't you let me in?" His voice provocative.

"No," Fernando answered firmly. "Did your mum send you to fetch me?"

"No." Agger shrugged. "You've been avoiding me all day," he stated.

"Glad you realized," Fernando sneered. "Goodbye." He shut the door.

But Agger's foot caught it before it clicked into the frame. "Don't be rude, Torres." The Dane gritted his teeth. "What are you planning to do over here? How about the dinner?"

"Why do you care?" The Spaniard forced the door shut, Agger grunted in pain and tried to hold the door open with his shoulder. "Agger, let go!" Fernando screeched.

"You let go." The Danish boy pushed against the door, and the Spaniard pushed back. They fought with all-shoving might over the solid wood for half a minute, then Fernando stumbled and Agger caught that chance to jostle in. He shoved the Spaniard back, Fernando staggered until he fell on his butt while the Dane shut the door behind him full-force.

The Spaniard looked up in horror, his heart beating very fast until he feared it might suddenly stop dead any minute.

"Get up," Agger said calmly.

***

El Rastro on Sunday was packed, being the most popular flea market in Madrid had drawn tourists to verify its reputation. Cesc didn't like it that much because of its always-overcrowded state, the last time he'd been here was a year ago with Gerard...

Everything is always about Gerard, isn't it?

The Spaniard grimaced and scolded himself. He shouldn't let his mind wander to his taller Spanish friend since today he decided to come here with Robin.

The Dutch's arm was on his shoulder and he seemed amazed by most stalls. Robin said he'd been here once when he's twelve or something and that was a long time ago. They stopped at a stall selling pet accessories, spent ten minutes in there and got two small dog shirts: one blue and one red, for their puppies.

The weather was chilly, the sign of the upcoming winter and Cesc felt cold. He hugged himself, even Robin's body adjacent to him couldn't alleviate the iciness, the Dutch was too thin, if it's Gerard he'd be warmer...

Bugger. Cesc bit his lower lip and receded further into Robin's embrace. They walked through the alley as the Dutch chatted lively, "...football team at school. Hey, you've got to come over to my school sometimes, I'll introduce you to them."

"Where's it anyway?"

"Fomento El Prado? Your house is in the middle of our schools actually. We can take a bus there first then I'll take you home afterwards."

"Umm, yeah," the Spaniard said dismissively. They arrived at the end of an alley and Cesc felt like having something hot for a drink.

"There's a coffee stand over there." Robin pointed to the next alley. "We can have hot chocolates or something." So they decided to check it out and had in their hands a couple of minutes later a paper cup of hot cocoa. Cesc sipped his, hands holding the cup which helped with the chill.

"Better?" The Dutch asked.

"Yeah," Cesc answered but detecting a gleam of amusement in the other boy's eyes.

"You've got...," Robin gestured around his upper lip then changed his mind. "You know what?" He looked around, they're at a corner of the market and there're only a few people about. Then he turned to look at Cesc, tender determination in his eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

Though that came a bit unforeseen, Cesc found himself staring back at the Dutch, not in shock but in deep consideration.

Then he nodded slowly.

Happiness in Robin's eyes was almost palpable, that's the only thing Cesc saw before the distance between them was slowly closed and the Spaniard felt wet lips press down on his.

Cesc closed his eyes.

The kiss was soft and warm, and tasted like chocolate. The wind still blew around him but it couldn't infiltrate their intimate envelopment. It's almost perfect: the feeling of being claimed. Just the fact that behind his closed eyes, he visualized Gerard Piqué standing before him instead that daunted him to his soul.

***

_'Whether or not a nuclear fission reaction becomes self-sustaining depends on the release of?'_

_'Neutrons'_

_'That's correct. How r u 2day?'_

Xabi's strolling La Vaguada. He's with his friends today: Pepe and Luis. They'd had lunch and were about to check the movie times for something interesting to beguile with on a Saturday afternoon.

_'Good. U?' Xabi replied._

_'I'm about 2 have lunch.'_

_'What do u have?'_

_'Burgers. U had lunch yet?'_

Their abstruse conversations got longer every day, from only scientific quizzes to assess and impel his knowledge to more personal questions. They started by talking about classes, then about home, then food, hobbies, and everything, though Xabi's astonished at how the other could still keep the real important details of his life concealed. It's not that he was the only one asking the questions and wouldn't answer Xabi's queries in return, but he answered with only trinkets, not the real precious stones. Hence, so far Xabi only knew that the other's favourite actor was Al Pacino, his favourite film was Scarface, and he often played football after school.

That meant if he's not Mikel Arteta himself, which Xabi doubted, he had to be someone in that football-crazed group of boys.

And with that, the mystic breakfasts had come back, too.

 _'Yes, pizza,'_ Xabi replied the message.

_'Oh, junk-food junkies, rn't we?'_

_'Fat is required for the upcoming winter.'_

They arrived at the box office, and Xabi, by virtue of laziness, let his friends choose the film. He sat on a vacant seat for waiting audiences.

_'What is the process by which fatty acid molecules and glycerol are joined to form a fat called?'_

Xabi grimaced. Damn, biochemistry. He might be a connoisseur of physics but he didn't know the answer of this question. _'Chemistry isn't my forte,'_ he typed back, a bit mortified that, finally, there's a question from Mr. Anonymous that he couldn't answer.

Someone who had been sitting beside him on the waiting seats with his back to Xabi left. Two minutes later, his friends were back with three tickets in hand.

"Xabi, let's go," Pepe said as walking up to the Basque. "Hey, what's on the seat next to you?"

Turning around, Xabi found that there's actually something on it: something that looked very much like a wallet. "Someone might have dropped it," Luis said. "We should take it to Lost and Found."

"Who's the owner?" Pepe asked curiously. "Can we check? In case we know him or her."

Xabi picked it up off the plush seat and opened it, rummaged through the cards until he found an ID.

What he saw confused him at first, then a realization dawned on him, followed by even more incredulity. It's a 'him', the wallet's owner, but astonishment wasn't laid there. It took a couple of seconds to recall the familiar face and name on the card, yet it's unmistakable that he and the boy in the Basque's memory was the same person. Xabi knew him.

But he's supposed to be in England, wasn't he?

"Who's it?" Pepe asked. When Xabi didn't answer, he fetched the wallet off his hand, the Basque didn't protest.

The mobile in his lap vibrated, Xabi picked it up and opened the incoming message absently.

_'Don't u believe in chemistry at all, Xabi?'_

Xabi's heart skipped a beat, he typed back with the only answer coming from his flooding-with-so-many-incoherent-thoughts-at-the-time brain.

_'Not as much as I believe in destiny.'_

***

 **A:** Have you discovered the universe's deepest mystery yet?

 **C:** I've conducted some tests.

C looked thoughtful.

 **C:** And I think animals might be able to love, after all.

 **B:** What made you think that?

B looked doubtful.

 **C:** Because the experiment revealed that the object had broken heart syndrome when experiencing physical separation from his mate.

 **B:** Is there actually something like 'broken heart syndrome'?

B looked incredulous.

 **C:** Yes, there is. It's also known as Takotsubo cardiomyopathy, where a traumatizing incident triggers the brain to distribute chemicals that weakens heart tissue.

 **D:** That'd be exaggerating to say your object has that syndrome, you'd require to prove the hypothesis. Unless you're so sure about that because the object is you.

D's first intention was to tease, but then there was silence.

 **D:** Wait. What?!

 **A:** Are you experiencing love?

Everyone looked at C with wide eyes, and C, blushed with embarrassment, started to regret what he'd said.

 **C:** Well, how about you?

C turned to ask the originator of this unanswerable question in an attempt to avert attentions.

 **C:** Have you learnt anything at all?

 **A:** Well, actually since you brought this up, I'm wondering...

A paused, deep in thought, indecisive, distraught, and confused as well.

 **A:** ...is it what I'm feeling right now?


	9. Chapter 9

"Get up."

Agger looked very calm despite labored breaths. Glancing at Fernando coldly, he walked past him to the kitchen behind.

The Spaniard didn't realize he'd been holding his breath all the time until a huge sigh came out of his lung. Standing up, bewildered and uptight, he followed the Dane into the kitchen. What he saw made his brow quirk up.

"What are you doing?" Fernando asked.

"What does it look like?" Agger growled, his eyes still fixed on contents in the cupboard while his hands rummaged through them rapidly.

"Pillaging my storage?" He answered nonchalantly. Agger snorted but the Spaniard detected the corner of his lips lifting up a bit.

"You don't have anything worth robbing here, wanker, just cheap canned food. I'm trying to make you survive another day with all these malnutritional clearance." He finished browsing and took out a jar of Carbonara sauce and a bag of uncooked spaghetti noodle. Fernando leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest, amused.

"I'd do better without you in my life."

Agger didn't seem to mind the jab, he opened another cupboard looking for suitable cookware. "That wouldn't be possible for the next two weeks," he muttered. Fernando sighed.

"Listen, what I was trying to do by staying here was getting out of your way. I'll be present as least as possible for the remaining time so why don't you let me live?"

"Why should I do that?" The Dane snapped.

"Why?! Because we hate each other!" He howled.

"Do you hate me?" He fetched an aluminum cooking pot and a Teflon pan out of the cupboard. That question shot him unprepared, Fernando wavered.

"I...," he's lost for words. "But you hate me," then pointed out.

"You fuckwit, you're smart enough to think for others then?" Agger snarled, filling the pot with water. The Spaniard bristled with anger. "Answer my question," the Dane ordered.

"Fine. I don't hate you," Fernando snapped, and couldn't see the look on Agger's face because he's turning his back to him while trying to kindle the stove.

"That's settled then." The fire was lit up and the Dane put the pot on. "Would you like some tunas in our Carbonara?" He asked.

"What?" Fernando gawked.

"I saw there are some canned tunas in the cupboard. If you don't mind, we can put them in, or else we won't have any protein."

The Spaniard wrinkled his nose. "Just the sound of it is disgusting, but we can try."

Agger chuckled but sauntered to the cupboard to fetch the said can anyway. Fernando straightened and walked up to the stove. "You know how to cook?" He eyed the water in the pot doubtfully, that's when it started boiling. "Oh, it's bubbling!" He jumped back, frightened.

"It's boiling, you idiot." The Dane rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you plan to stay here all night without even knowing how to make water consumable." Then he put the uncooked spaghetti in.

"I didn't plan to stay here all night," the Spaniard mumbled yet loud enough for Agger to hear.

"You didn't?" The corner of his lips that quirked up a bit irritated Fernando. There's a bit of silence, then the Dane blurted out, "what do you plan to handle me then?"

"What?" Fernando gaped. He saw the spaghetti limping in the hot water and automatically retreated a step. Agger, ignoring him, ignited a nearby stove and put the Teflon pan on.

"Can you fetch me the Carbonara sauce?" He waved to the far side of the counter. Fernando followed the direction of his hand to fetch the jar before handing it to the Dane precautiously, making sure to leave the distance at hand's reach. "Thanks," Agger muttered while taking the jar, popping the lid open.

"How do you know how to cook?" Fernando leaned against the sink, kept the distance at out of the Dane's reach, crossing his arms over his chest once again.

"I'm the big brother, dimwit." Agger tested the heat by dripping a droplet of creamy sauce in the pan, it lay still.

"You mean you have to cook for your brother and sister?" Fernando looked incredulous.

"Not all the time, just when my parents are away." He turned to check the spaghetti.

"You don't look the type," the Spaniard mused.

"Don't judge from what you see," Agger retaliated.

They're silent for a while then Agger poured the sauce into the pan, it sizzled this time and Fernando stepped back.

"If it does splatter, would you leave me burn by myself?" The Dane asked, and to Fernando's surprise, he detected hurt in that voice. Fernando bared his teeth.

"One does not fight to save another person's head only to have a kite carry one's own way."

"Or the assistance of fools only brings injury," Agger struck back immediately.

Fernando was thinking about saying 'fuck you!', but his imagination of 'fucking' Agger suddenly flashed into his mind making him blush deep scarlet. That's when the Dane gathered the supple noodle up off the pot and unceremoniously shoved them into the pan and put out the fire under the pot. "Get the plates out," he ordered.

Fernando, still mortified by his own untimely wild fantasy, almost stumbled to the cupboard in haste. He looked for dishes, "err, two?" and asked without even thinking thoroughly.

"One if you want to play the scene from Lady and the Tramp."

The Spaniard's cheeks reddened up even further. "It's clear who the tramp is."

Fernando realized his mistake a bit too late, and the Dane's smirk attested the notion. "Well, it's also clear who the lady is."

Fernando would like to literally dig his own grave and lie there forever. He didn't have a chance to retaliate when Agger asked, "and would I get the plates in the next century or so?" So the Spaniard grabbed two plates and put them next to the stove. Agger's still scrambling spaghetti with the sauce. When it looked edible enough, he teem it into the two awaiting dishes. "Open the tuna can," the Dane ordered again.

Fernando randomly drew the drawers around the kitchen looking for a can opener, found it in the third cupboard and successfully opened the can after a-while fumbling with its mechanism. "Pour them on," the Dane commanded, and the Spaniard used a fork to divide the contents into two portions.

They ate, no scene of Lady and the Tramp, and though it didn't taste heavenly delicious, it wasn't bad either. At least he's full for the night. And as the clock struck eight, they'd finished washing everything.

There's an awkward silence, where they didn't know what to do next, and Fernando just simply waited for the other boy to order him home. But what Agger eventually said surprised him somewhat, "I want to hear you play piano."

Fernando was bewildered. "You do?"

"Yes, I've only heard once," he mused. "I wanna hear again."

The Spaniard thought it might be in vain to demand Agger for the more polite way of asking for something, so what he did was just standing up and shambling to the drawing room. When he arrived, he turned on the light.

A Schimmel stood in the corner of the room, shrouded with a coverlet. Fernando tugged the spread away, light dust diffused in the confined space, he hadn't touched it in a while. The dark mahogany gleamed in the LED light, and if he would turn the switch off: the moon's.

The ambience befitted his favourite song.

The Spaniard sat down on the stool, glancing at the Dane. Agger's leaning against the doorframe, looking at him with concentrated calmness.

Fernando laid ten fingers on the keyboard and played, anew, _'Clair de Lune.'_

The rhythm was gentle and placid, like moonlight glinting a tranquil ocean. The move was cozy yet at the same time freshly raw, like the moon that had just woken up from its nice and long slumber. The Spaniard closed his eyes, he memorized the movement long ago that didn't require looking at the notes or even the keyboard. His fingers floated over the ivories instinctively, striking the keys tenderly creating entrancing tunes. He's in the middle of the movement when he finally opened his eyes.

To find the room in darkness.

It's not pitch-dark, but dark nonetheless: the absence of electric light. Fernando startled for a split second but kept on performing the piece. He knew nothing out of usual had happened, it's just Agger turning the light off, though he had to admit it unnerved him a bit. Moonlight casted in through the window. Bizarrely, on this side of the house, street lights couldn't invade through, it's always completely dark if you switched off the light in the nights without moon.

The movement behind him didn't turn him back, neither the weight of someone sitting behind him on the same stool and the warmth of body's heat on his back.

Fernando kept the rhythm though inside he's quivering in apprehension, and frankly, anticipation. The boy behind him sat very still until the Spaniard started to think that he'd simply stay like that, when a hand gently placed on his upper arm and he felt a soft kiss on the back of his shoulder.

The Spaniard forgot to breathe and closed his eyes in case it'd help him to compose. On the contrary, it made him worse. With one of the five senses shut off, other four functioned better. With his fingers drifting over the keyboard purely by intuition, the notes seemed like wafting from another world, not from his own hands, and he felt hypnotized by it until he wasn't sure anymore what's real and what's not. His fingers' touches on the ivories felt fragile, the hand on his arm felt heavy like tons of lead, and the butterfly's caress on his shoulder almost drove him insane.

Fernando didn't even realize when the song had ended.

"What's the song's name?" The Dane muttered against Fernando's shoulder, he could feel the lips' movement on his skin through his shirt. The hand gently stroked his upper arm and it sent chills down his spine.

"Clair de Lune." He suddenly found that his voice was deep and husky.

"Moonlight?" Agger asked in a very tender voice.

The Spaniard cleared his throat. "Yes."

"That's very suitable." The Dane shifted, and Fernando could feel hot gusts of air on his nape, as well as the tip of the sharp nose and wet lips. The lust gathering in the pit of his stomach turned him on immediately and made him delirious. Fernando moaned in his throat and shifted slightly with restlessness. "And I think that's enough," he heard Agger say. The other boy broke the contact and stood up unhurriedly, and the absence of heat drove him even crazier. Fernando missed the feeling of the Dane next to him until he wished he could just turn and jump him.

Fernando sat there with closed eyes, laboring his breaths and trying so hard to control his heart.

"Let's go back to my home," Agger said from behind.

***

"Where are you going?"

David caught up with Iker and Álvaro in the hallway while they’re on the way to their lockers. "I'm thinking about the Prado museum," Iker said while putting stuff in his locker. It's the end of a tough day and he's quite in the mood for abstraction.

"Can I drop by your place afterwards?"

Iker halted his hand which was putting in the books. "Why afterwards?"

"I'm going with Vic for dinner," the Londoner said. "I wouldn't be late."

The Spaniard felt his heart constrict in his chest. "I might sleep early tonight, I'm a bit tired," he lied. It's not that he's angry at the English but he could predict what would happen if he let David in and he didn't feel like facing it again this soon.

David's face fell, and Iker felt the wall he'd built crumbling inside, and he knew that with just one more word from the Londoner, he would do whatever he asked, go wherever he wanted him to go.

"What's wrong with you guys?" Álvaro eyed them both suspiciously. David, who seemed to just realize the other boy's presence, glowered at him dangerously.

"Can I have a word with you, Iker? Alone."

Álvaro's back stiffened. "Hey, what the fuck is going on here?" He snarled.

"It's okay, Al." Iker held his hand up in restraint. "See you tomorrow."

Álvaro huffed but didn't interfere anymore. He stalked away while David, didn't even wait for Álvaro to be gone, walked up to shut Iker's locker door drawing the Spaniard's startled stance, caught Iker's hand and dragged him away. "What are you doing?" Iker asked, being very self-conscious with David's hand holding his tightly, fingers intertwined. The British didn't answer, not until they arrived at the back of the Bachillerato building.

"David-" was the only thing Iker could utter before he's pushed back against the wall and hushed by David's lips.

The Spaniard's surprised by the sudden attack. The back of the building was always void of students so witnesses weren't the problem. But, yeah, this was still a problem.

The kiss deepened and Iker gasped into the English's mouth, his shoulders were clutched hard by the other boy's hands. David thrust his tongue in and the Spaniard could only accept it with self-indulgence. It would be a lie to say he's not aroused by the Londoner's fervent display of libido: with the heat of their mouths and the friction of their skins through their clothes, especially on the sensitive area.

David withdrew at last, they both panted hard. "Please," he murmured to the corner of Iker's mouth. "I promise I won't do anything."

The Spaniard inhaled. "Why would you need me then?"

"Because you give me strength," David whispered against Iker's cheek before dragging his lips to cover the Spaniard's again.

Iker’s eyes fluttered closed, his heart drummed in his chest and David's answer rebounded in his head but he's trying, doing his best to convince himself...

...that it doesn't actually mean anything.

***

"Everyone, this is Cesc," Robin introduced the boy to the bunch of his friends.

"Hello," Cesc said to no one in particular. He's at Colegial de Fomento El Prado: Robin's school. It's a nice Friday evening and they're going to play football like Robin had done when he's at Cesc's.

"You're from Sagrado Corazon?" A boy Cesc remembered named Andrei asked when they're about to start a game.

"Yes."

"How do you know Robin?"

"We met at a park, I always walk my puppy there."

"Oh, I see. It's puppy love." Andrei smirked and winked. Cesc blushed.

He played on Robin’s side, of course, and Robin scored twice: once from his assist and the other from Andrei's.

The game ended with the win of their team: 3-2, besides Robin's shots, there's this boy's, Theo. It seemed that Robin's a very talented striker, Cesc thought while walking to a bench, he'd only seen the boy played twice and he'd already scored four. The Dutch still caught up in conversations with his friends when someone caught up with Cesc.

"Hello."

Cesc looked around. "Hi."

"I'm Aaron." The other boy smiled at him softly.

"Cesc," the Spaniard replied as they arrived at the bench.

"You're with Robin, right?"

That blunt question made Cesc choke on his own saliva. "W-what?!"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Aaron shrugged.

The hair on Cesc's nape prickled. "Then why do you need to ask?" His voice was definitely not friendly.

"Just to be sure." The blond boy sat down casually on the bench. "I used to be with him."

That statement caught Cesc off guard, he's petrified. "Excuse me?"

"He's my ex-boyfriend." Aaron shrugged but looked Cesc in the eyes.

He's silent for a moment in a state of didn't know what to say. "Err, I'm sorry to hear that, and Robin and I aren't a couple."

"Listen, I love Robin, I still do, and I'd definitely kill you if you hurt him."

Cesc was taken aback the second time in two minutes. "What?"

"He likes you, a lot, I can see it in his eyes." Aaron glanced around and caught Robin's eyes in the middle of the crowd. Seemed like the Dutch just realized whom Cesc was talking to, the furrow of his brows and alarm in his eyes when he waded through bunch of boys was acute. "If you don't feel the same, stop using him," the blond boy finished his sentence.

Cesc's jaw dropped ungainly. "I'm not using him!" He hissed.

"Yes, you're." Aaron got up off the bench. "When you look at him, you think of someone else." Cesc froze, and that was when someone arrived beside him.

"Aaron," Robin's voice accosted.

"Robin," Aaron replied. "I'm just leaving." He smiled innocently to both of them. "See you guys around, yeah?" He turned around and was gone.

"Cesc, you're alright?" The Dutch turned to the Spaniard. "What did he say to you?"

Cesc was still in the process of recovery. "Err, just normal stuff," he said despite still looked like he'd just seen a ghost.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." No, I'm not, that's definitely not a normal thing to happen.

"Okay, let's go take a shower then, so I can send you home." Taking hold of Cesc's hand, Robin led them to the changing room.

 

Saturday was sunny, quite a rare sight to find as winter was around the corner. Robin and Cesc were out walking Arsenal and Captain in the park. It'd been almost an hour already so the Spaniard asked for a break. They sat down on a vacant bench.

"They didn't seem to get tired like us," Robin said as the two puppies were still fooling around with each other as far as the leashes let them.

"I guess they have too much reserved energy from when they just frolicked around at home," Cesc responded.

"They wouldn't if they have frolicked around at home 'together'." Robin smirked mischievously, and the thought of their puppies frolicking together shifted to the image of them instead. He didn't know whether that thought occurred to Robin as well when the Dutch looked at him like that, but he blushed anyway.

Cesc turned the other way instead in an attempt to hide his flushed cheeks. Robin's arm crept up behind his back and held his waist and he felt the other boy's chin on his other shoulder.

The blush went deeper. "I've been thinking about staying over at your place on a weekend," the Dutch murmured and his breaths felt funny on his ears. "What do you think? Would your parents mind?"

Cesc was about to say that, of course they wouldn't mind, Gerard did it all the time and he couldn't see why if a boy could do it, others couldn't.

Then the true meaning of it caught him and the realization that that might never happen again hit him in the face. It's Gerard again, always the one coming up first in his head. He thought he could forget him a bit in the past week but that might simply be his delusion, he thought he'd forced his mind real hard, apparently it hadn't been hard enough.

And the thought that Gerard might never stay over at his house again pained him to the bone.

"Cesc?" Robin said after a while of silence and he realized that Cesc might have not heard him or been too stunned to answer. The Spaniard took in a deep breath and turned around, his and Robin's confused dark eyes locked for a moment before he plunged forward, catching the other boy's lips with his.

Robin froze in shock in the first seconds but resumed his posture and kissed back fast enough. It's their second kiss after that one at El Rastro, that one Cesc barely opened his mouth or even reciprocated the kiss, but this time, he willingly rushed tongue-first in the cave of Robin's mouth, devouring him as well as trying to lose his thought and all the senses of reality into the heat of pretended passion.

When they tore apart, Cesc found himself breathless, Robin's labored breaths panted heavily on his cheek.

"Is that a yes?" He asked, nuzzling against the Spaniard's neck enticingly.

"Yes," Cesc replied. "How about tonight?"

***

_Liverpool, England._   
_Three years ago._

"That's really cool, Alonso. How did you figure out that the Latent Heat of Fusion of water was whatever it was?" Dirk Kuyt slung his arms around Xabi's shoulder and asked with genuine admiration. Xabi shrugged.

"You just needed the mass of the water, mass of the ice, specific heat of the water, initial temperature of the water, and final temperature of the water to calculate the Latent Heat of Fusion. It's all in the equation, no big deal. All you needed to know was how to measure the correct numbers of those variables."

"You're genius." Kuyt was impressed. "Though I don't understand what the fuck you're talking about, with your accent and weird physics terms and all, I simply know you're the genius of geniuses. I'll leave the fate of Jaguar's physics scores to you from now on, Xabi Alonso."

They'd just finished an experiment. Galileo was a science camp, the program organized by EHEA: the European Higher Education Association. All the campers were 9th-grade going on 10th-grade students who received highest rankings in science exam test. There were twenty two students from Spain, and about the same number from each country all over Europe, so in total the number of campers reached 400 or something. They're divided into teams by drawing lots and Xabi was put in Jaguar Team as well as other nineteen students. They ate at the same table, slept in the same cabin and worked together on assignments.

Dirk Kuyt, a funny and energetic blond boy from Katwijk aan Zee (only God knows where the hell it is and how to correctly pronounce it), the Netherlands, was elected as the team leader. It'd been a week into the camp and Jaguar Team's score ranked at No.3. Not bad at all and Xabi relished it so far. He'd never had a chance to express his passion in science, physics in particular, this much at home, due to the lack of apparatus and all, but he had everything he liked over here.

They arrived at their table for dinner and both boys sat down beside each other. They’re soon braced by other teammates and they all chatted lively, pleased by the currently received scores. Xabi took a bread roll from the basket and lifted his eyes to answer a question from John Arne Riise, a boy from Norway sitting opposite him when his eyes caught a pair of dark brown eyes beyond.

He always sat there, facing Xabi from that table: the Liver Bird Team's table. Usually everyone had their usual spots and Xabi would sit over here while that boy sat over there, directly across from him but with two other people and two tables in between.

It's on the fourth day during lunch that Xabi noticed the boy's eyes on him.

The hindrances to vision couldn't prevent him from looking at Xabi, and the Spaniard was perplexed at first. He looked away shyly for a couple of first times but when the stare kept coming, Xabi realized they weren't coincidences. The next gazes flustered him, and after several he determined that he'd face it the eye to the eye.

So Xabi looked back.

They'd never talked, not even until now with those explicit gazes aiming at one another and Xabi wondered how long this could go on without any of them making the first move. Nonetheless, he knew the boy's name, he's quite popular anyway with that look and charisma, he's the leader of the Liver Bird Team, ranked at No.2 on scoreboard right now.

He's English and his name was Steven Gerrard.


	10. Chapter 10

David kept his words.

When he arrived at Iker's house that night, he climbed into the Spaniard's bed and tugged the owner in beside him. Iker lay with his back to David at first, with the Londoner's arms embracing him, but after only fifteen minutes he felt cramped so he turned around to face David.

The English boy smiled. "Hey."

"'Hey, what?" Iker snickered, snuggled up against David's solid chest then wrinkled his nose. "You stink."

"Like yeah, I haven't washed up since yesterday."

"Eww." Iker's lips went wry but he still kept hidden against the Londoner's t-shirt.

"You didn't seem to mind." David smiled and tightened the embrace.

"Don't suffocate me!" The Spaniard growled. "Victoria doesn't let you squeeze her enough?" He regretted the minute that sentence left his lips because David's body went rigid immediately.

"It doesn't feel the same," he murmured against Iker's forehead before kissing his hairline softly. The Spaniard blushed.

"You don't need to do this, you know?"

"Do what?" David frowned.

"Umm, this," Iker mumbled, "being gentle and stuff, I'm-I'm your friend, not your lover or anything." Or he should just bite his tongue to death now.

"I didn't do anything." David's still frowning slightly like he didn't think what he'd done was unusual. "I just like being around you like this, or...," his voice trailed off and the Spaniard had to raise his brow in curiosity, "...you'd prefer this?" And his arm that lay across Iker a second ago slid to the Spaniard's belly to tickle him.

"What?!" Iker yelled, and later, screamed. He tried to parry the Londoner’s naughty hands without much success. David pushed him down on his back and straddled him, his deft fingers ran over Iker's body: waist and then armpits. The Spaniard clutched David's shirt, nailed his biceps and laughed uncontrollably until he huffed, so the English stopped and grabbed a pillow to thrash him playfully instead. Iker, still panting heavily, caught another pillow beside him and beat the Londoner back.

"Do you like this better?" David asked breathlessly, trying to catch the Spaniard's weapon of assault which aimed at his head at the same time. "Is this what friends do in bed?"

No, Iker thought bitterly while making the most effort to push the other boy back until he eventually landed on his back, Iker straddling him this time and David laughed so loud. The Spaniard looked at his gleeful friend and smiled wryly,

…No, David, this is still what lovers do.

 

A week had passed before David charged into Iker's house again.

It's Saturday and Iker had no idea where the hell his English friend had been. He'd known David went on dates with Victoria a couple of times in the past week, it hurt a bit, really, but a part of him still felt happy for his friend that he could finally handle the relationship without his part in it.

Or not.

"What happen?" The Spaniard asked, but no reply came from the Londoner except the tight grip on his wrist that dragged Iker up the stairs immediately.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, David assaulted his lips.

Iker gasped at the sudden and unforeseen attack, he pushed the Londoner away and David backed off just an inch. "Iker," he panted, then offended the Spaniard's lips with more heat this time. Then his mouth slid to kiss Iker's jaw, chin, then his neck.

Five minutes later, they ended up in bed, tearing each other's clothes off. David was restless, but Iker asked no question. He did what best friends did in this kind of situation, went with the flow and provided what he could give.

Or so he thought.

Foreplay ended fast, and this time the British paused before the situation got out of hand. Retrieving himself from between the Spaniard’s raised knees, he stooped to fumble for something in his jeans on the floor, then out with a tube of...

"What's that?" Iker asked through heavy breaths.

"Lube," David answered huskily. "It'll help." He uncapped the tube with quivering hands, the Spaniard eyed it warily.

"What did it do? Are you sure it's safe?"

"It's safe." David squeezed the transparent gel onto his palm. "Trust me."

The Spaniard was about to say that they wouldn't have come his far if he'd never trusted David, when the English resumed the position over Iker. The hand without lube caught the Spaniard's right knee, holding it apart. His slick-cold finger dabbed his entrance and the Spaniard jerked immediately. "Fuck!"

"What's wrong?" David snatched his hand back, panicked.

"It's cold," Iker grumbled.

"Yes, it is. Sorry I didn't warn you," the English boy said. "Easy now, okay?" Iker nodded yet jerked again as David's finger contacted his puckered skin. He huffed but David didn't retrieve his hand this time. "Alright?" And when Iker nodded again, one of his fingers dipped into the hole.

The Spaniard gasped but didn't bolt away, David's hand on his leg also held him still. He moved his slick finger in and out slowly, just one-third of the length and didn't thrust in any deeper by virtue of uncertainty. "Is it good?"

"It's wet," Iker panted.

"It will help with the entry." He didn't warn again when adding another finger to the invading army. Iker hissed through clenched teeth.

"D-David-"

"It's good, isn't it?" Suddenly the Londoner's lips were against his. David's lying on top of him, his hot skin pressed on Iker's heaving chest, his hips between the Spaniard's parted legs, their members ground and his fingers were still in Iker. He moved them slowly, scraping them against Iker's wall.

"Fuck, David!" The Spaniard gritted his teeth, and when he felt the third finger at his loosening entrance, he shot his hand to clutch the English's wrist at the speed of light. "No, stop." He panted against David's mouth, sweats sprouted along his hairline, and he's so thoroughly aroused that he's afraid that he couldn't hold it any longer. His other hand held the Londoner's cheek, thumb stroking his swollen lips and stubbly chin. "I need you," he whispered. "And not only your fingers, you know it."

The British closed his eyes and nodded. He withdrew the two fingers and used that same hand to catch his erection. "Won't you put lube on it?" Iker asked teasingly. David who seemed to be struggling with self-control at this point growled.

"Right." Sweeping his hand over the sheets until catching the tube he'd left there, he uncapped it. The Spaniard laid his hand on David's.

"Let me...," he said huskily and the English boy let go of the object. He squeezed the liquid onto his palm, locked eyes with David's which stared straight into his soul, and without deflection, slid his slick hand down to the Londoner's crotch.

David's breath hitched as coldness engulfed his sensitive feverish member. Iker gently stroked it, applying the gel on his palm as much as possible on the exposed area. When he thought it's oily enough, he caught the base and pulled it to his entrance.

The entry was very much easier than the first two times with only David's spits. The Spaniard gasped as the head of the English's hardness slid into him. David paused for a moment to let himself adjust to the environment before pushing in further. He backed off a bit then thrust in again, deeper each time, until finally he's whole in the other.

Iker dug his nails into David's back and bit his lower lip to halt his shriek. The movement was slow at first then the Londoner picked up the pace, and all the Spaniard could do was clasping the other boy tightly to his chest while his knees hugging David's hips deeper into him.

Then he bolted and suddenly he saw stars, the electric shock almost made him come on the spot and it's the first time in ten minutes that he couldn't hold his shriek. "Fuck! David, what's that?!"

"There?" The English boy repeated the scrape and Iker's body jolted again, it's almost like reflex. And before he could ever protest, David pounded on that spot he'd never known he had in him sending him scream more. The Spaniard hid his face in the crook of the Londoner's neck to muffle it, and David sought his cheek with his lips, kissing comforts into him. "Do you like it?" He asked raspy, and though Iker didn't answer, his rough pants, sweet swearing and delicious moans were answers enough.

It took only two minutes more to send them both to orgasm.

As they lay in a tangled heap under the sheets with afterglow, David snoring loudly in content, his legs and arms lying across Iker's torso, the Spaniard looked at him and reckoned...

...if that's what David wanted, he could provide. If he's the refuge the Londoner sought from the pressure he had from pleasing Victoria, or whatever, then he'd willingly be there for him, for calmness and comfort, be damned madness and morality.

As long as it'd make David happy, he'd do anything.

***

"Hey, Nando."

Fernando spun around to see Sergio Ramos eyeing Agger and him suspiciously. They're on the way to school and apparently they decided, for the first time, to go together. Sergio just caught them when they'd got out of the bus and walked the remaining distance to school, almost arrived.

"Err, hey." Fernando had no idea for an excuse. He looked at Sergio, embarrassed. Agger who'd halted with him, seeing who'd interrupted them, looked annoyed. Without further notice to either Fernando or Sergio, he turned on his heels and was gone in the direction of the school.

"What's that?" Sergio looked even more irritated. "When did you befriend that ill-mannered goon?"

Sergio didn't know about Fernando's one-month home stay at Agger's house, he hadn't told anyone. "We are neighbors," he simply said.

"Oh, you are?" Sergio snorted. "Is it necessary that you befriend every one of your neighbors even when they keep bullying you?"

"No, but he's not that bad."

Yes, he's really not that bad. When they went back to Agger's house last night, the Dane didn't do anything to Fernando, he didn't touch him and neither of them talked about what had happened in the last twenty-four hours, which was a relief as well as a procrastinating imbroglio.

And to be honest, he's a bit disappointed.

And today, what a progress, Agger asked him to go to school together.

"Oh, really?" Sergio sneered. "And you see the need to walk by him when you met him on the street?"

Something like that. "Cut it, Sergio, he's no harm," Fernando growled.

"Alright." Sergio raised his hands in mock-surrender. "Just remember that I'm dying to say, 'I told you so'."

 

Despite the fact that they were actually in the same class, they didn't say a word to one another until the end of the day came and Agger caught up with Fernando on the way back to their house. The Spaniard only regarded the Dane passively when Agger's paces fell in with his.

"Let's check out Jose Ramirez," was the first thing the Dane blurted out.

"What?" Fernando was dumbfounded.

"Jose Ramirez, you bonehead," Agger said. "I want to check out the new model, there's one coming out."

"You mean classical guitars?"

"What could it mean otherwise? Don't be an imbecile and tell me you don't know Jose Ramirez." He scowled.

"Umm, I know him because I saw his name on your Spanish guitar?" The Spaniard said uncertainly.

The Dane clucked his tongue. "Now, you're getting smarter, Torres." He smirked at the same time they arrived at a junction, turned left when the direction to the bus-stop to their house was actually ahead. "Coming?" He jerked his head to the direction of the metro.

Fernando's legs followed the Dane without even letting his brain to contemplate.

They appeared from the underground again at Puerta del Sol, and the Dane, led the way, ushered them through Calle Correo, and after a few-minute walk, into a shop.

Fernando recalled that he'd heard of the name Jose Ramirez before, and not because of his name was on Agger's Spanish guitar. The Ramirez Guitar was one of the best classical guitars, had huge legacy and history. And as they stepped into the shop, surrounded by every kind of Spanish guitars lining all sides of the wall, Fernando could even smell its heritage that hung heavy in the air.

Agger walked straight to the counter and asked for the newest model.

"We have the 5NCWE, new cutaway," the owner said, he must be one of the Ramirez, Fernando could tell from his mien though he'd never seen one before.

The owner brought the said model onto the counter and Agger inspected it thoroughly with a gleam of admiration in his dark eyes. Fernando looked at it captivatingly, not at the guitar, apparently, but at Agger's expression.

He wondered what it would feel if that expression was meant for him alone.

Damn, does he just get jealous of a piece of wood? The Spaniard rebuked himself. The Dane kept fiddling with tuners and strings, the sounds of the strums were incoherent, and Fernando kept staring at the other boy's hands, and face, and lips.

Well, he once had those lips to him alone...

The memory of that feeling made him blush a deep shade of red until he didn't hear the question aiming at him. "Hello, anybody there?" A wave of hand in front of his face, Fernando jolted.

"W-What?!" He found his face heating up even further.

"I asked what do you think?" Agger raised his brow.

"Cool," the Spaniard answered without actually thinking about it.

"Do you like it?"

"Sure." Fernando shrugged. "Why?"

"Any discount?" The next question didn't aim at him, and while the Dane negotiated the price with the owner, the Spaniard wandered around the shop, paying attention to anything rather than Agger. "Let's go." After some time, the Dane came after him, a black guitar case slung across his shoulder. Fernando didn't ask how much it cost in the end but it seemed expensive enough judging by its reputation.

They took a metro back home, both absorbed in their own thoughts. Agger seemed very guarded toward his new toy and Fernando couldn't blame. They arrived home in time for dinner, and afterwards Fernando stayed down to help Mrs. Agger with the dishes while Agger had long gone up the stairs.

Agger was in the couch playing a slow song with the new guitar. When the Spaniard walked in, he stopped. "Do you want to try?" The Dane asked, gesturing to the guitar in his lap.

Fernando was a bit surprised. "Should I?"

"Yes, you should," Agger snorted. "Come here."

The Spaniard sauntered over to the couch uncertainly but sat beside the Danish boy nonetheless. Agger passed the new guitar to him. Fernando touched the newly polished wood adoringly, he caressed its gleaming body, stroked its elegant neck, and brushed its angelic-noise taut strings before strumming some random notes.

Agger got up and shambled to the end of their bed to take his old Spanish guitar from where Fernando had left it against the wall before walking back and sitting down on his previous spot. The Spaniard strummed some notes until satisfied, it felt novel, fragile and handcrafted until he's afraid he'd tarnish it, so he gave it back to the Dane.

"I'll use this one," Agger said without looking up from the Spanish guitar in his hands.

Fernando didn't understand. "What?"

"Are you deaf or something, Torres?" The Dane strummed the guitar.

Fernando straightened up now and changed part of speech for more effect. "Why?"

"Why?" Agger snorted. "Because only one can use one Spanish guitar at a time, that's why."

He felt shocked. "But...I've never thought I'd have it all to myself." Then felt guilty to the max. "I'd still be living here for another two weeks and I thought you'd let me borrow it for the time. I'd buy mine soon but I don't have much money now and my parents are away-"

"I just gave it to you, idiot," Agger snapped.

The Spaniard blinked. "What?"

"Let's play some songs-"

"What do you mean by 'I just gave it to you'?" Fernando demanded. Agger sighed.

"Torres, I'm not imbecile so no need to repeat what I've just said to me. Oh, I forgot, YOU are the one who is imbecile so you might need to hear everything twice. I just gave it to you, IDIOT."

"You didn't answer my question."

"How's that difficult to interpret?!" The Dane's frustrated now.

"Agger, listen, I can't do this, I can't take your guitar-"

"Torres," the Dane glared, "shut the fuck up."

But he wouldn't relent that fast. "If you insist, then give me that one. I can't take this new one, God knows how much it costs."

"I know how much it costs, doesn't that mean I'm God?" He smirked.

Fernando glowered. "This is not funny, Agger."

His smirk faded a bit. "It's my money and you needn't worry."

"Well, that's the whole point!" The Spaniard shouted now. He felt queasy inside, first, he didn't like quarreling with Agger, and second, the thought of Agger buying him something, something really expensive, just made him dizzy. "How much is it? Tell me!"

"I like this old one better so I'll keep it." The Dane strummed his old Spanish guitar.

"That's not the point! Both of them are yours and none are mine!"

Agger, who seemed to do not feel like arguing anymore, started playing a song.

"Agger!"

But the Dane heeded him no more and the intro of the song caught him off guard, he’d heard this song being played instrumental only on piano but not guitar, yet he couldn't be more certain that it's the song he thought since the intro was so unmistakable.

Be damned all considerateness because it's Brian McKnight's _'Back At One'_.

The Spaniard sat stone-still listening to the guitar version of the song. It's not that it's difficult to play or anything, just the meaning of it - of everything - was so pungent until Fernando felt like he was blown away by the surge of acute emotions, be it his...,

Or Agger's.

 _'It's undeniable... that we should be together..._  
_It's unbelievable how I used to say that I'd fall never_  
_The basis is need to know, if you don't know just how I feel,_  
_Then let me show you now that I'm for real,_  
_If all things in time, time will reveal..._

 _One, you're like a dream come true,_  
_Two, just wanna be with you,_  
_Three, girl it's plain to see that you’re the only one for me,_  
_Four, repeat steps one through three,_  
_Five, make you fall in love with me,_  
_If ever I believe my work is done, then I start back at one'_

It's 'til the end of the song that Fernando sat there staring at the Danish boy, and when Agger looked up from the guitar and in the Spaniard's brown eyes, he eventually realized...

...that there was no turning back now.

***

Robin ended up at Cesc's home that night. The Spaniard introduced him at the dining table and the Dutch got along well with his family. Robin was a talkative person in nature, but unlike Gerard, he's more mature and decorous, with the two-year difference and dignified look, Gerard might be considered in a lower league.

What good does it do to keep comparing Robin to Gerard?

Cesc would stop once realizing what he’s thinking, he'd kept doing this the whole week. He knew it's no good, and he'd already tried his hardest not to think about the other boy, but when he lost focus on the present, Gerard would appear from his subconscious and take hold the better, or worse, part of his head.

He needed to get rid of it, somehow, anyhow, permanently. He couldn't think of any method, and Robin was the only chance he got now.

They finished dinner and Cesc's family let them up the stairs. The Spaniard had only a single bed in his room and they didn't have any guest room, so Robin would have to sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor - just like Gerard had always done - or squeezed in bed with him.

That was settled the second Cesc closed the door, because even before he turned around, a pair of hands had caught his shoulders and spun him, slammed him against the wall before a pair of lips crushed his fervidly.

Cesc gasped into Robin's mouth, it's the first time in the day that his head was completely blank. Robin's body flushed against his, his lips were burning as the kiss deepened, the Dutch's hot tongue shoved in the cave of his mouth and Cesc almost gagged by the avalanche of sensations which was suddenly too much for him.

Finally Robin pulled back and Cesc huffed, gasped for air. The Dutch's lips trailed down the other boy's jaw, chin, then neck, his hands roamed all over the Spaniard's back, waist, then to his chest. His left hand stayed on Cesc's right chest, and the Spaniard felt the flaming heat even through his shirt, Robin's breathes on his throat made him shiver to the core.

"Can I take your clothes off?" The Dutch asked hoarsely and his breaths tickled the Spaniard. Nonetheless, he didn't know what to answer to that, he'd never been the one who was seduced before. Robin took his no-objection silence as consent so he gripped the hem of the other boy's shirt and took off.

Cesc closed his eyes as Robin's kisses on his chest aroused down to his groin. The Dutch flicked his tongue and Cesc’s jolted by the velvety hot slick touch over his nipple. He panted harder as Robin's wet lips dragged down to his belly, dipping tantalizingly into his belly bottom, and the lust was almost too much to bear. "Cesc," Robin whispered as drawing his tongue down the sparse hairline above the waistband of his jeans.

"Robin." Cesc squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath as the other boy fumbled with the buttons of his jeans with his mouth. "Shit."

"Bed?" Robin panted against his lower stomach, his burning breaths raised all hairs on his skin.

"Umm."

The Dutch stood up, caught Cesc's waist and spun them both so the Spaniard's back was to the bed. He pushed Cesc backwards a couple of steps until the boy's calves hit the bed so he was forced to sit down on it. Robin straddled him and pushed him further until he lay on his back, between the Dutch's knees.

Isn't this what he wants? Cesc asked himself while Robin was stripping his own shirt off above him. Isn't this why he asked Robin to stay over in the first place? Because he wanted Robin to make him forget, he wanted Robin to make him feel worthy, to fuck him senseless and say he loves him and would never ever hurt him like Gerard had.

Would he still think of Gerard while they're making love? Cesc thought bitterly when the Dutch bent down to capture his lips desirously once again. He lowered his body until their groins aligned and the Spaniard felt the other boy's hardness press tightly against his. No, it's not making love, Cesc told himself, he doesn't love Robin, not yet.

Something barked, and that jolted both boys out of their actions. Cesc turned around, to find Arsenal snarling at them from the corner of the room. He'd already forgotten about him.

"Seems like someone disapproves." The Dutch chuckled before returning to the Spaniard, about to resume kissing him.

"Robin." He halted the Dutch with his hand holding back the other boy's by his chest. He bit his lip and turned away. "I can't do this."

There's silence for almost five full seconds before Robin replied, "okay." He turned over and off Cesc, plopping on his back, his limps spread wide on the bed. They stayed like that for a while, staring at the ceiling with their breathing still harsh. Arsenal had stopped snarling by now.

"Are you mad at me?" The Spaniard asked finally, the room was eerily silent until he shivered from the chill lurking underneath.

"Of course not." Robin turned to him, smiling only by his lips. In his eyes, though struggling to conceal, betrayed chagrin. There was silence after that for a moment before the Dutch broke it this time. "Can I hug you then?"

"Yeah," Cesc murmured, and Robin scooted closer so he could put an arm around the other boy comfortably. They haven't turned off the lights yet and Cesc reminded himself to do it after Robin had fallen asleep. As for himself, he reckoned he would stay awake for another long time. Memories of what Aaron said yesterday haunted him,

_'If you don't feel the same, stop using him.'_

_'I'm not using him!'_

Yes, you are, Cesc retorted himself in his mind. And you're disgusting, Cesc Fàbregas.

***

"Is this your ever first time in England, Xabi?" Dirk asked while the four of them were walking along the marsh, a twig in his hand kept sweeping aimlessly over the reeds. John and the other boy: the Irish Steve Finnan, walked along in the group.

"Yes," Xabi answered, peering at the sky. "Everyone says it always rains in England." Yet in summertime like this, the sun which was always hidden behind the murky clouds over this island, decided to shine, not much, but still.

"Must be so in contrast with Spain," Steve said. "Isn't it sunny all the time?"

"Mostly."

"I've never been there." The Irish boy pouted. "I've never been to the continent much, and this camp just had to be held in the UK."

"Nothing new to you then," John said piteously.

"Same old." Steve clucked his tongue, and without further notice, he turned and pushed the Norwegian boy. Losing balance, John who's sauntering on the bank fell ungainly into the marsh, water splashed loudly and spluttered other three.

"What the-?!" Xabi cried, arms rose to defend himself. John sprang up off the waist-height water.

"Steve, you!" The Norwegian snarled, and though Steve had backed off from the bank immediately, wasn't fast enough when John grabbed his ankle and hauled him down.

"Jo-Arghh!" Steve screamed, but before stumbling into the mire, he grasped Dirk's upper arm for an anchor, which was an utter mistake since the Dutch wasn't weighty enough.

It ended up with the both of them tumbling down the morass.

"You!" Dirk gasped once he pushed himself up off the muddy mess and spat out what had got in his mouth when he fell. He looked at himself and found that he's wet and dirty all over, water dripping from his shirt and his blond hair was flat wet against his temples. "Assholes! Why are you jerks always like this?!" He snarled. Steve and John, both dripping wet, laughed gleefully. Xabi, the only survivor, snickered as well.

"Why are you still here?"

An unfamiliar voice with an unplaceable heavy accent chimed in beside him and the Spaniard snapped around immediately, to find a boy standing next to him, looking at him amusedly.

The lad's Steven Gerrard.

Xabi was caught off guard. "Err." The twinkle in the other boy's eyes forced him to be collected real fast. But before Gerrard could do anything naughty, Xabi, who thought he'd stepped back far enough yet the lapse from the unexpected distraction might lead to this undoing, felt something grab his ankle.

In quick succession, he automatically seized the neck of Gerrard's shirt. The other boy's wide eyes told him that he acknowledged his unfortunate fate.

The next second they both landed in the marsh with so many laughter around to verify that their fall must be quite ungraceful. Squeezing his eyes shut protecting them from water, Xabi tried to hold his head over the surface, gasping for air and thrashing slightly wondering why he felt so leaded like the swamp was trying to suck him down its dregs. He opened his eyes then realized, the mud didn't try to drag him down, it's the person over him that his weight pinned Xabi to the spot, their faces were only inches apart.

The Spaniard blinked, looking in the other boy's eyes which were staring back at him with a playful and mischievous look that their proximity sent Xabi's heart skip a beat. Yet he succeeded in forcing the greeting out, "Err, hello, there."

The corner of Gerrard's lips went up. "Hello, there, too."

He heard his friends' laughter behind him and could visualize them playing in the water like five-years-old.

"Umm," he didn't know what to say, he felt like Gerrard should get off him by now but the other boy's still there and he didn't want to voice his request, so he chose, "I'm Xabi Alonso."

Gerrard smiled. "I'm Steven Gerrard, nice to meet you."


	11. Chapter 11

"You're too soft, Torres. Be fiercer."

Fernando sighed, took the strap and pulled the electric guitar out through his head. "I won't do this, Agger." Playing classical guitar was one thing, electric one was another. Fernando loved music but he wasn't an expert in all genres, he loved slow and soft songs: R&B for example, Rock was less favourable, nonetheless.

Agger glared at him. "You have to if you want to come with me tomorrow."

Fernando glared back. "What? Where?" You might think when someone said something like that, you'd have arranged some meetings before. But with Agger..., no? Fernando absolutely had no idea.

"You'll see." Catching the new Spanish guitar which was laid against the couch, the Dane strummed. "Keep practicing the electric guitar."

"Why do I need to?" Fernando simmered. "I don't like the sound of it, grate my ears."

"You can't only play classical guitars, Torres." Agger made strong and high-pitched sounds with the Spanish guitar in annoyance. The Spaniard grimaced.

"Pray tell why could not I, Daniel Agger?" He emphasized the Dane's full name, slumped in the lower bunk bed and put the electric guitar aside while kicking at the jumbled wires at his feet. He found it amusing yet frustrating that the other boy tried to order him around.

"Because you're too soft, with that girlish face and blond hair and playing piano and all!" Agger snarled, abruptly sprang out of the couch to the bed and the blonde stiffened up, thought the other boy was going to attack him but the Dane just dashed to snatch the electric guitar from beside Fernando. The Spaniard pouted.

"There's nothing wrong with my face, my hair, and my piano skill," he said.

"Yes, there is." Agger retuned his electric guitar while still standing nearby. Fernando started to get angry now.

"I don't recall I need your approval of anything," he snarled and turned around to his bag, fishing a textbook out. The Dane stopped mid-tuning and raised his brow.

"What's that?"

"A book." Fernando lay down on the bed, ignoring the other boy and leafing through the pages.

"Are we having any test soon?" Agger asked. The Spaniard snorted.

"Not that I know of."

"Not that I care anyway, nerd."

"Is that a problem to you?"

"What's a problem to me?"

"That I'm a nerd, soft, and only play - what did you call it? Oh, queer instruments." He turned the page, it's his new book about the Mayan's lost civilization.

"Everything about you is my problem since the first day I met you." Agger played the guitar louder. The blonde snapped the book shut.

"If my presence bothers you that much," he seethed, "there's no need to be in each other's company."

"The door's there." The Dane pointed.

The Spaniard sprang out of bed, book in hand, strode to the door and out without hesitation, banged the door shut loudly behind.

He had nowhere to go, anyway. It's late but someone's still in the living room, watching the telly, it's Stephanie.

"Torres," the girl greeted.

"Stephanie," he replied and was thinking about slipping out the front door to the porch.

"It's cold out there." The girl might simply read his mind. "Why are you downstairs, anyway?"

"Err, I need some silence for my reading." He waved the book.

"Oh, I thought you and Dan fought again."

Fernando froze.

"You fought with Dan, didn't you?" Stephanie smirked knowingly. She straightened up in the sofa, a pillow in her lap, patting the space beside her in invitation. "What did he do this time?"

"Err...,"

"Tell me." Stephanie narrowed her eyes and Fernando felt the compulsion to walk over and sit primly beside her. Daniel's sister was even scarier than the boy himself.

"He called me a nerd." The Spaniard waved his book again. Stephanie raised her brow.

"Well, you actually are, but that's none of his business."

"Exactly!" Fernando cried out. "He said everything about me was a problem to him since the first day we met!"

"And when was that, actually?"

"Five minutes ago-"

"No, I meant 'the first day you met'." Propping her chin in her hand, Stephanie looked at him amusingly.

"What's that have to do with anything?" Fernando snarled. "He hates me, isn't that simple enough?!" And the Spaniard found his heart ache by his own words. After Fernando had thought he got the messages right, that he couldn't misinterpret Agger's doings, after all this time, he couldn't believe that it still came out like this.

"You know what? Daniel is a very good big brother," Stephanie said. "He has a foul mouth, true, but most of the time he doesn't really mean what he says. Most of the time, what he says could be interpreted in more than one way. He's not the one who's good with words, at the same time, he's the one who's really good at it."

Fernando didn't understand at all. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"He always has a go at Marco and me," the girl explained. "Revile us with abrasive words until sometimes they made us cry. But then he'd pat our heads, teach our homework or cook for us. He'd never apologized, never consoled, he couldn't sweet talk, he doesn't know how to, so he expresses his true feelings through something else: his actions, or music." The Spaniard stared at the girl incredulously as the information sank in, all the things Agger had said, done and played reran through his baffled mind. "So basically, when he said everything about you was a problem to him, it could be interpreted more than just that you'd annoyed him."

Fernando frowned. "What could it mean otherwise?"

Stephanie smirked. "Well, for one, you'd provoked him?"

The Spaniard blushed scarlet and Stephanie giggled. "Or you could simply just don't listen to him, that's what I really want to advise."

"What are you doing here?"

Both Stephanie and Fernando startled. At the doorway stood Daniel. They'd been caught up in the conversation until neither noticed the sound of the Dane’s footsteps, or maybe it's just because Daniel walked very softly, which was kind of out of his loud character.

"Hi, Dan." Stephanie smiled instigatingly. "We're just talking about you."

"What?" Agger simply snarled.

"Is there a problem?" The girl raised her brow and Fernando found that it might be quite annoying from Daniel's point of view.

"No. Torres, are you coming up or not?"

Fernando stiffened but Stephanie answered for him, "of course, he is." She kicked Fernando's ankle. The Spaniard glanced at the other Dane looming at the doorway and sighed, Stephanie's words churned in his head while he got up and walked over to Agger.

"Good night, Torres," the girl called after him.

"Good night," he replied and stalked past Agger without a glance. The Danish boy said something to Stephanie in Danish and Fernando heard him trail up the stairs not far behind. He got into the room first and Agger shut the door behind them.

"Don't listen to her, whatever the fuck she said about me," the Dane spoke up the moment they're alone in the room. Fernando turned around, gaped.

"For your information, your sister only said good things about you!" The anger that had subsided since he went downstairs had come creeping back, now it's on behalf of Stephanie though the blonde doubted she would be crossed at her lovely big brother at all.

"I know," Agger muttered, again snatched his electric guitar and buzzed the strings loudly. Fernando froze, then slowly smiled as he understood what the Dane desperately tried to hide.

Mr. Agger’s afraid that his bad boy image would be ruined, isn't he? Nonetheless, wasn't going down to fetch him back up an attempt to make him forgive?

It works, by the way.

***

Steven Gerrard was English, that's what he'd already known, but more than that, he's a Scouser living in the city of Liverpool.

His accent was really weird in his Scouse way while Xabi's was weird in his own Spanish way, and frankly they're both very difficult to decipher. When they tried to hold a conversation, Xabi could understand only half of it but Gerrard didn't seem to mind and tried even harder to talk like normal English people, which failed utterly.

It'd been two weeks into the camp and Jaguar was ranked lower than Liver Bird still. Steven wasn't actually a genius in science compared with other top students, but he had this special charisma for being a ringleader. After the muddy incident on that bright summer evening, the English kept accosting Xabi and his friends and also brought his own friends: Milan Baros, Igor Biscan and Ryan Babel, with him every other time. Ryan was a Dutch and he and Dirk had known each other before, so putting team rivalries aside, they'd got along quite well and easily.

Another day ended with sparkling delighted feelings in his chest, the afternoon held another physics experiment related to Brownian Motion and Xabi's very happy that their team had the highest score in this task.

An arm slung around his shoulder while he's walking away from the lab, Xabi turned around and was a bit surprised that it's Steven’s.

"You got the highest score," he said, smile hovered at the corner of his lips though he kept staring ahead thus Xabi couldn't see it clearly.

"Well, yours weren't too bad."

"I had done nothing." The Scouser turned around and pulled his arm back, the corner of his lips quirked up even more. Xabi's brows furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"I know you'd done most of the task, all if it comes to physics."

"Yeah, and that allocates very well with my participation when it comes to other subjects."

"I don't have any forte, if you'll compare me with others." Steven wrinkled his nose. "I'm only average."

"If you're ‘only average’, you'd have never got in here in the first place," the Basque said, then pointed out, "you've that leadership charisma."

"My teammates barely understand what I say." The Scouser chuckled at his own joke. Xabi smiled, was about to counter with a comment about the other boy's accent when Steven said, "hey, are you free this evening?"

Xabi frowned. "Yeah, I guess so." It's five in the evening and they had two-hour free period until dinner. Most boys had already found activities to kill their time, some playing football while some simply taking off their shirts and plunging into the marsh. Girls giggled as they walked by.

"Want some fun?" Steven asked, naughtiness in his eyes took Xabi aback.

"What is it?"

"You're in then?"

The Spaniard crossed his arms over his chest. "This is breaking the rules, isn't it?"

The Scouser cocked his head a bit, asking innocently, "Are there any rules?"

"What's your plan?" Xabi's eyes narrowed. Steven smiled.

"Coming?" He asked as putting both hands in his pockets and walking backwards away from the route to their cabins, raising his brows like challenging the other boy to follow. The Basque quirked his brow but simply trailing after Steven silently.

It had taken about ten minutes before Xabi realized they'd arrived at the fence. There's no one around and all was silent, from here they could easily climb the fence out to the whole world beyond. "Are we going out?" He asked incredulously.

Steven snickered. "We are if you want to.”

"Only us two?" Xabi asked. "Well, I'm fine with it." And that made Steven’s smile apparent.

"Right. So," he nodded to the fence and the whole England awaiting, "let's go then?"

 

"Where next?" Steven asked. They'd just got out of Adidas store in the downtown and the sun was hovering over the architectures of Liverpool on the far horizon sending coral rays saturating the cloudless sky. They'd walked around, popped in and out of every other store with nothing much back out. Tepid wind brought the scent of the sea to impregnate the air until the atmosphere was full of serenity as well as indolence. Seagulls squawked over the roofs every time they flew inland to check how the human world's doing before returning to the dock again. They'd been strolling around for an hour and a half and it's already seven which meant his stomach had started grumbling.

"I'm hungry," he said.

"Oh, then let’s go to Albert Dock. There're quite a lot of choices of restaurants there."

"Which way?" Xabi asked, turning around on his heels like a hyperactive child. He didn't feel tired at all, only very excited that he'd seen Liverpool by himself at last. The camp brought them out to visit the city once but focusing only on educational purpose, they went to The Beatles Story and Merseyside Maritime Museum, which was so very boring. This time he's free, though he's not alone, he knew Steven would indulge him anyway, and he felt like the whole city was his, even the world.

"That way," Steven said. Without glancing at the English, Xabi walked straight to the way he already had in mind and thought was correct. A hand shot to his wrist immediately, tugged him back to the other way. "I said, this way, señor," the Scouser scolded, chuckling slightly, then his hand slid lower to the Basque's hand and held him loosely.

Xabi knew it's weird: two boys holding hands walking the street, in Spain it did and he guessed in England it should be, too. Some pedestrians looked at them twice but mostly just walked by ignorantly, yet Steven still held on and the Spaniard didn't think he should shake it off either.

They walked like that until they arrived at Albert Dock.

"What do you want to have?" The English asked without looking at Xabi.

"Any recommendations?" He looked at Steven out of the corner of his eyes.

"Okay, let's try this." The Scouser murmured and hauled the other boy along the dock. They finally reached a restaurant, it's not grand compared with others but looked lovely enough.

"What do you think?" Steven asked while they stood in front of the menu stand, browsing through the list, his right hand still held Xabi's and the Basque felt clamminess of sweats between the tightness of their palms.

Xabi didn't even glance at the menu when he said, "Whatever you like," the stickiness on his hand made him could not concentrate.

So they stepped into the restaurant and, finally releasing each other's grasp, sat down on the opposite site of a small table for two and ordered. Dinner went by too fast for his liking, it's not that the food was very heavenly delicious, it's just okay if you really need to know. The room was bustling but Xabi still found peace in the corner of this crowded place and he wished on a whim that the world would frankly stop spinning. He liked it here, in this corner of the world with Steven.

Or it might be simply anywhere in the world with Steven?

It's eight o'clock eventually and the Scouser thought it's a wise idea that they should head back to the camp now. It might not be unusual that one didn't show up at dinner because one wasn’t hungry but it might be quite unusual if one had disappeared beyond bed time.

It took them almost an hour before they arrived at the camp by bus and sneaked back into the area. The path was dark though the sky was cloudless, so Steven fished out his mobile and used it as a torch to lead them through the woods with buzzing cicadas. The Spaniard followed suit yet still stumbled when he accidentally kicked an unforeseen tree root.

"Be careful." The Scouser caught his elbow and supported him to regain his balance, but after they'd kept walking he still didn't let go of Xabi. His hand slid down to the Basque's wrist and hesitated there, so Xabi shifted his hand up to hold it.

The return grip was tight yet shaky.

"Are you cold?" Xabi asked. It's a bit late and temperature had dropped by several degrees.

"No," Steven answered and kept leading the way through the grove. Finally they appeared at a route near the cabins, Xabi stopped just outside the copse.

"Well," he turned to the Scouser, their hands still holding loosely, "thank you for today."

"You're always welcome." Steven smiled hesitantly and Xabi saw indecision in his eyes. So he didn't step away, instead stood there, looked him in the eyes and waited for something he had no idea of.

After it had felt like forever, Steven took a deep breath, leaned in and kissed him.

***

"Ier, et eo of ee!"

David's struggling under the pillow Iker had pushed down on him, his arms and legs thrashing wildly to push the Spaniard away. Iker snickered but kept his weight on the pillow covering the other boy's face. He's practically sitting on David, clad in only boxers - the both of them - legs straddling the English boy's waist. "This is for those three times in a row," he growled, and the pain at his bottom fueled him to push the pillow down harder.

Suddenly David’s hips bucked up so high that Iker lost his balance. The British caught Iker's calves and swapped him around so the Spaniard found himself lying on his back with David on top of him in the blink of an eye.

"You like it," David pointed out victoriously, caught the pillow which still lay between their chests and thought about doing the same to Iker but changed his mind. He left it there, slid down until their hips aligned and grounded them together. The Spaniard jolted.

"What again, Dave?" Iker narrowed his eyes but didn't try to push the Londoner away. David smirked.

"Is thrice the best you can do?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up! You're not the one who bottomed!" He did shove David this time and the English guffawed. He tumbled to the side and that's when his mobile rang. The British rolled to fish his phone out of his jeans discarded on the floor.

"Victoria," David mumbled and walked out the door. Iker heard only 'hi, baby' before he's completely out of earshot.

Flopping down on the bed, the Spaniard stared at the ceiling. They're at David's house - David's room - on a chilly Sunday afternoon. The whole house was theirs since others had been out, so they decided to celebrate this actually-very-normal-occasion on David's bed for three times.  
Three rounds were the most they'd tried - actually they hadn't even tried twice before. He didn't know where David got that much energy from. Though it had been a week that they hadn't had sex, so it's understandable that David's quite - a fit teenage boy that he was - very horny.

The thought of Victoria made him ache a bit. They'd just had sex - very good ones to be honest - and were in a state of after-sex cuddle or even starting a new round, but now David couldn't even reject a simple call from Victoria, which he could call back any other time that wasn't quite significant.

Well, Iker grimaced, they'd been together the whole day and this was the first call from Victoria, it's not that she called him every other hour or anything, and he should be grateful that she didn't call in the middle of their shagging and David felt the need to pick up the phone.

Damn, is he jealous or something? He acted more like a girl every passing day. And of course Victoria had the right to call David anytime she wanted, they're dating, frankly. The Spaniard growled at himself, caught the pillow off his chest and stuffed his face in it in frustration. He stayed like that until he heard footsteps outside the door so he swiftly rearranged himself: lying on his side, loosely hugging the pillow and feigning asleep.

He heard the door being opened and footfalls to the bed, the mattress dipped when it bore further weight of someone sitting on. "Iker," David's voice called out to assess the other boy's consciousness. The Spaniard lay still and tried to steady his breath. After a moment, he felt the English boy shift and an arm lay across his torso. "You must be tired. I'm sorry if that was too much for you," the words had been muttered in his ear before David snuggled up against his nape with a soft kiss on his skin.

Iker shivered and had to suppress his reaction. It's harder to hide his smile with David's arm around him, his lips on his nape and his hot breaths on him like this. Well, he's happy, isn't he? As well as David. As far as he knew, there's no trouble in paradise.

Be damned Victoria.

***

Lionel Messi was happy.

Gerard was slouching besides him in the couch, scratching behind Bazooka's ears who's coiling in his lap absentmindedly. The dog wasn't asleep but wasn't energetic either, though a couple of weeks ago he looked worse. Lionel asked what happened to him and Gerard explained that he missed his mate. The tiny Argentinean asked further until the Catalan admitted that it's because he didn't bring him to visit Cesc's puppy: Arsenal, as much as before.

Bazooka's ears perked up at the mention of 'Arsenal' and 'Cesc', his eyes which drooped most of the time he lay there now opened wide like two dark crystal balls. Lionel noticed that. "And why is that?" He quirked his brow up questioningly. Gerard sighed.

"Because I've spent most of my free time with you."

And Lionel felt like a culprit because of that, because Gerard chose to be with him, the puppy wasn't as lively as before. He wondered whether Cesc's puppy's condition was the same. "Yeah," Gerard answered when he asked.

"You should visit Cesc more often then," Lionel pointed out. Gerard's shoulder stiffened and he interpreted it that he didn’t like the advice very much. "I can go with you if you want."

Gerard's shoulder stiffened even harder. "Nah." He scooped the ickle Chihuahua up and put him on the floor. Bazooka growled a bit in dissatisfaction but the Catalan ignored him. "We can't spoil them too much, can we? At first I thought I'd try separating them because I wanted to know the outcome, whether they would forget one another eventually. It appears they won't and though they keeps getting better, not look like dead rugs as at first, I still insist on keeping them apart at this level."

"What?" Lionel didn't understand a thing. "Why?"

"I don't want them to depend too much on one another. It's not healthy, fool even, that one's keys to happiness is in someone else’s pocket. He should be happy enough by himself. He can be happy being with his best friend, but not all the fucking time. I'm trying to teach him that."

"Will he ever understand?" Lionel looked incredulous. "I mean, he's just a puppy, Gery. He just wants to have fun with his mate."

"I'm not talking only about dogs," Gerard’s eyes kept on the Chihuahua who sauntered away in irritation and now was coiling on a new spot under the coffee table. "Human should understand this simple fact first, shouldn't give one's heart in other's hand so that they could make you happy or sad at will."

This was getting more and more confusing and Lionel didn't understand it at all. "What the hell are you talking about?" And he's a bit annoyed by the Spaniard’s perception of happiness. He knew Gerard wasn't talking about him, but still..., "You mean if it was you, you wouldn't let anyone, even me, have your heart?"

Gerard startled, he raked his brain to come up with a suitable answer, but found none. He sighed. "I'm not talking about you."

"Then who were you talking about?" Lionel was frustrated. It's not once that Gerard had done this, but many times already, when he didn't feel like answering a question, he'd dismiss it that 'it's not this we're talking about’, 'it's not me we're talking about'.

Until Lionel thought that he had some secrets that didn't want anyone - Lionel in particular - to know.

The Argentinean bit his lip. "Gerard," he called, and the Catalan turned around uncertainly. Hesitation flashed in his dark eyes and Lionel didn't want to fucking realize what that was all about.

He lunged at the Spaniard, covering up traces of everything with his lips on the other's.

Gerard's stunned, Lionel could tell with closed eyes from the other's body that stiffened up immediately. But the tiny boy kept his eyes shut, his lips on the Catalan’s and his mind determined. It should have shocked Gerard more or less because they'd never kissed, this was their first, Lionel had never thought he would be the one who initiated it, and he doubted Gerard had, too. The Argentinean held his breath.

And when he thought Gerard would never gonna kiss him back, he did.

The Spaniard’s lips were soft when they crushed back against his. Lionel moaned in his throat, hands slid up to clutch the taller boy's shirt. It had happened only for half a minute then Gerard was the one who broke away. Lionel huffed and the Catalan panted, too, but he composed fast.

"Shall we go out to buy groceries your mum told you to buy? It's getting late," Gerard asked, his voice calm and he didn't even look wavered, like nothing out of usual had happened at all.

Lionel swallowed hard. "Sure."

"I'll get a bag," the Catalan announced, stood up and disappeared to the kitchen.

Biting his lip, Lionel looked at the doorframe Gerard had disappeared to apprehensively. No matter what the other boy was thinking, Lionel was happy because he'd just kissed him and had him by his side at this moment. For him, for now, that was enough.

_One shouldn't give one's heart in other's hand so that they could make you happy or sad at will. It's not healthy, fool even, that one's keys to happiness is in someone else’s pocket._

Well, Gery, Lionel grimaced, I guess that means I'm a fool for you.


	12. Chapter 12

"Where is it?"

Cesc was peeking at a leaflet in hand, a maze with multicolor: red, blue, green, black, and on and on. He couldn't even find where he currently was, and was more without a clue where they're going.

"Vallcarca." Gerard who's standing beside him said though he still kept looking at the metro map in hand. "Who gets to the right line first wins!" He said and darted off immediately. Cesc looked up in surprise but sprinted after him though he still had no idea where to.

"What?! You know where it is already?!" He yelled after his taller friend.

"If you follow me, I'll win," Gerard yelled back over his shoulder. Cesc gritted his teeth. He didn't think the taller boy knew where he's going, he couldn't be that fast, so Cesc straightened the map in the air in front of him and tried his best to peek at it while running. Gerard jumped down the first escalator he found, Cesc followed with no idea where it led.

Then he found it. Gerard said _'Vallcarca'_ , right?

It's on the green line: L3. He looked up to find the sign and found that down the escalator had only two lines: blue and purple. He looked at the map again and raked his brain hard for where he was right now. They'd just been out of a church with bizarre architecture of several perforated towers with balls on top. What the fuck is its name again? Cesc scanned the map for some ideas: a station at a junction of blue and purple line...

Sagrada Familia, that's it!

Cesc almost shouted in delight. So now what he had to do was outrun Gerard, take the blue line to Diagonal then the green to Vallcarca. He smirked then ran full-speed since he didn't need looking at the map anymore. Gerard was still skimming through the leaflet when he dashed past.

"What?! You know where to go now?" He yelled after the smaller boy.

"Who gets to the line last pays entrance fees!" Cesc yelled over his shoulder.

It's Gerard's turn to grit his teeth and sprint after the other boy.

 

They arrived at Park Güell safe and sound and Gerard paid for entrance fees. It's not Cesc's first time here though he'd never come here by himself. The last time was when he visited his relatives in Barcelona with his family. Gerard also had relatives living in Barcelona and this time they came with Gerard's family and stayed over at Gerard's relatives' place. Cesc couldn’t remember the name of the park so he told the taller boy that he wanted to go to the place where they had the rainbow giant lizard.

Gerard said he called it the gay gecko.

They walked the park, it's chilly and crowded at the end of December. They would stay here for two more days then back to Madrid. It's the last day of the year today.

"Another year is passing," Cesc said while sitting on a serpentine mosaic bench. Gerard sat beside him.

"Do you think we can be like this forever?" The taller boy suddenly asked. Cesc raised his brow.

"Like what?"

"Like this." Gerard didn't look him in the eyes. "Do everything and go everywhere with each other. Be friends forever. Grow old together."

"We've grown up together, haven't we?" Cesc snickered. "Why couldn't we keep on then?"

"Because finally we'll get married and have children, they will need our times so it's not like we could spend time together all the time like this."

"What? Gery, we're still in 8th grade! Why do you talk like a mid-thirties?!" Cesc laughed. "Tell me this has nothing to do with Daniella and me."

Gerard didn't answer.

"Okay." Cesc took in a deep breath. "Daniella and I are girlfriend and boyfriend, alright? It's not like I'm gonna marry her or anything. Not within ten years' time. And though she and I are together, haven't you noticed that I choose to spend New Year's Eve with you, moron?"

"But it can't be like this forever, you know it," Gerard protested.

"Why not?" Cesc fussed. "Why couldn't we be together forever? We might grow up and get married and have children, so what? Let it be. When we get married, we would go on a honeymoon together. When I have children, I would bring my kids to play with yours. How's that sound?" He shifted to lay his head on the other Catalan's shoulder, felt Gerard stiffen up a bit but didn't care. "Listen, you dickhead, whatever's gonna happen in the future, nothing would ever tear us apart. Until the end of time...,

"...you'll always be my best friend."

***

Another week passed by with churning ambiguity.

Xabi felt fuzzy every time Steven's closed by, which was quite often. Sometimes he delighted when the boy stuck around, but sometimes it made him uneasy and he's confused with himself, too. But after that time, Steven had never kissed him again, never held his hand, or even been alone with him. They didn't have a chance and didn't try to create one. Steven didn't seem to think it's a great idea to publicize that he liked to touch Xabi in more than a friendly way, so what he did when they're among their friends was just standing really close to the Spaniard until they felt the heat radiating off each other.

It's by virtue of hot summer weather, or not.

Jaguar Team's scores beat Liver Bird's on the scoreboard once. They had ranked like that for only two days before Liver Bird scored highest in a chemistry task and soared to No.1 in the overall ranking. The dude who did that was Milan Baros, one of Steven’s close chums, and Xabi didn't think he's quite human.

They didn't have assignments today, instead they'd have a holiday in York. The town was a hundred miles away from Liverpool and it took two hours on the coach ride. Xabi sat with Dirk, it took all about ten buses to take all the students, guardians and teachers. Jaguars and Liver Birds were on different coaches.

Once they arrived at the town, they could choose to go to York Minster, York Castle Museum, Jorvik Viking Centre, National Railway Museum, or Treasurer's House - or if someone was nerdy enough, all five of them. Once you went to one but still wanted to go to other attractions, there were always guardians who would take you there. Otherwise you're free for the rest of the day until five when everyone would have to gather at the parking lot for buses back to Liverpool. The choice was individual and they didn't have to go as a team, so Xabi had decided that he'd go to York Minster then flee to some serene and peaceful corners in York, with Steven.

They arrived at nine, not quite early for a working day. It's Wednesday today, better not going anywhere with four hundred plus plus fifteen-years-old in tow on weekends when the town couldn't bear their avalanche. Xabi hopped off at the parking lot, breathing in the scent of antiquity basking in the summer sun. England couldn't have a brighter day, it's the sunniest day Xabi had seen on this island and the weather was quite sultry, too. Students were noisy as teachers and guardians were trying to cluster all of them into five groups heading to five destinations. Suddenly Steven appeared beside him out of nowhere.

"Hey," he greeted, two hands deep in his pockets.

"Hey," the Spaniard greeted back. "Ready?"

"For the restaurant I'll take you? Of course. Should we skip the tour and go straight there right now?" He smiled mischievously. Xabi glared, he knew the Scouser was joking but still..., or he wasn't joking?

"What's it, anyway?"

"Rustique."

"It's good?"

"The best in York. Shall we?" He turned around and raised his brow over his shoulder. Xabi scowled.

"No, it's too early, I'm not hungry yet. And I want to go to the Minster first anyway so you can't break this rule."

So they went to York Minster together, Xabi's other friends decided to go to Jorvik Viking Centre which he figured John’s the culprit. It took an hour for the walk and the tour, then they're done. Still, it's almost two hours before noon.

"Where do you want to go next?" Steven asked.

"Umm, anywhere? You be the guide."

He laughed. "Alright, but just so you know, it's only my second time here."

The Spaniard didn't mind that at all and he let the Scouser lead him anywhere he wanted. They got lost in York town centre, wandering a lane then turned a corner to another alley. Everything along the path seemed ancient yet robust, evidences that it could stand through inclemency and incursion for two thousand years and could do another. The bricks reeked of memories and the cobblestones saturated history.

The walk ended somewhere and Steven took half an hour to find a way to Rustique from there. When they arrived at the restaurant eventually, they're quite starving. The restaurant was lovely decorated in French bistro style: with vibrant sunglow-colored walls to framed vintage ad posters all over the place. It's full despite on a working day and Xabi realized Steven had to book in advance to get a table.

"Steven, this restaurant is very famous, isn't it?" He whispered once they're seated at a table.

"Of course."

"Wouldn't it be expensive?"

"It’s worth it."

Xabi didn't know whether it’s actually worth it, he's not an epicure and hadn't tried French cuisines much before, if it wasn't Madrid cooking, what he ate would be Basque's. But this was fabulous, he thought as finishing seafood crepe at the speed of light. He only knew that everything tasted brilliant, though it couldn't be compared with other restaurants since he'd never tried.

When the bill came, Steven didn't let the Basque see it and insisted on paying for them both.

"What?! Why?!" Xabi didn't understand.

"Because I should have done this since the first time we went out together, but I didn't. So you have to let me do it this time," the Scouser said and Xabi couldn't find any rationality in that sentence.

"Why would you have to do that?" He inquired. "Tell me how much it was."

"Xabi, you don't understand anything, do you?!" Steven snapped.

So Xabi shut up after that, but he still didn't understand anything. They wandered around town for the best part of the afternoon, the sun's still shining bright in the crystal clear blue sky. When their feet were sore, they went in Bettys Cafe and Tea Room, ordering a pot of Darjeeling and their famous scones. Xabi liked the dessert very much and was even more impressed when Steven laughed and told him that Bettys’ scone was disputably the finest in England. Sadly they wouldn't be fresh if he bought them home, so the Scouser settled for chocolate biscuits instead.

The Spaniard insisted on paying for them this time, and Steven didn't object except for the take-away biscuits which he demanded to pay by himself.

As they walked back to the parking lot as the end of the day crept up around them, Xabi felt like he had been fulfilled, not by marvelous French lunch or remarkable tea break, but by something he couldn't quite put a finger on. As a scientist, he wanted to know what it was, but as a teenage boy with high Testosterone level, he didn't quite want to know.

"Xabi," the Scouser called as they arrived at row of coaches. They had to separate here to get on with their teammates. The Spaniard turned around as Steven handed him the paper bag from Bettys.

"What?"

"For you," the English boy said.

Xabi didn't understand. "But you bought it-"

"Just take it, alright? I give it to you," he cut off.

The Basque took the bag from Steven's hand, still bewildered. The Scouser hesitated for a split second before reaching out to ruffle Xabi's short hair endearingly. "See you at dinner," then he fled to his bus.

Xabi got on the coach and sat on the window seat. Dirk and his other friends got on not five minutes later and the guardians counted the kids. The bus set off when ready, didn't wait for other coaches since that would delay them all, and Xabi watched as archaic bricks and stones full of bleak shadows of the past rolled by to verdant hills and fields glowing under the evening summer sunlight. The sun was still high on the far horizon, it wouldn't set until the next three hours or so.

At one point when Dirk was snoring contently beside him, Xabi opened up the Bettys paper bag with nothing particular in mind. He put his hand in in hope to find a frigid tin of biscuit, instead, he's surprised his fingers caught something soft, something that felt like...

The Basque pulled it out of the bag.

It's a stem of red rose and Xabi stared at it incredulously. He had no idea how it had come into the bag, it's sure was Steven's doing, but he had no idea when he had done it, or how, or why.

Well, he might know the 'why', or he might not.

Xabi turned to look at the rolling scenery once again, the rose still in hand where he spin it between his index and thumb. He held it under his nose and breathed in, its odor was full of novel summer sunshine, so contrary to the place where it came from. Still, Xabi wondered where Steven had got it, where that the Scouser plucked it off its tree because he didn't see one at all.

The Spaniard inhaled deeply once again and smiled, the summer would soon end and the flowers wither, but within him there would remain memories of York, Liverpool, this wonderful summer...,

...and Steven Gerrard.

***

"Hey, dudeee,"

Agger greeted his mates the minute they entered the studio after school. There're five people already in there: some preparing instruments, some chatting. The studio looked dingy because of the dark-colored walls and dim lights. Fernando followed close behind the Dane, felt really out of place.

All of Agger's friends stopped their activities and greetings that were about to be blurted once they noticed the newcomer.

"Man, this is Fernando," Agger introduced the blonde to all of his friends, it's the second time the Spaniard heard the Dane call him by first name. His friends looked like thugs, some of them were from their same class at school, some of them he had never seen before at all.

"I know who he is," a boy he remembered named Martin said, he was the scariest of them all. "What is he doing here?"

"From now on he would come with me," Agger stated simply. "He's good with guitars."

Martin raised his brow. "Electric ones? He doesn't look the rock type." Agger stopped in a corner and took off his guitar. Fernando didn't bring any. "Where's his guitar anyway?" Martin asked further.

"He’ll use mine," the Dane said.

That answer caught everyone off guard, including Fernando. He's dragged along with only a coercive invitation to 'a studio where my friends and I practice'. He didn't think it's suitable for him to come, yet Agger didn't accept any refusal.

So here he was, with no idea at all that he had to perform with electric guitar. "What are you talking about?!" The Spaniard hissed at the Dane.

"Show them." Agger handed the other boy the guitar, Fernando stared at him incredulously.

"What?!" He hissed again, still didn't take the guitar from Agger.

"You heard me, Fernando," the other boy retorted calmly.

It made something inside of him churn, the way Agger ordered him with that authoritative voice combined with the way he called his name. It's bizarre and incomprehensible, why Agger felt the need to show that he was on good terms with Fernando in front of his friends was beyond his understanding. They'd never been on good terms though, at least Agger had never called him 'Fernando' in private. This was so unusual.

Still, the blonde took the guitar from Agger. The Danish boy hid his smile in the corner of his mouth. While Fernando took the Gibson Les Paul Custom Maple off its bag, Agger took the cables and connected them to the guitar amplifier he'd taken with him then fumbled with the wires. Finishing with the amplifier, he turned to the Spaniard and got on his knees to plug the cable to the electric guitar Fernando had slung across his shoulder and neck. The blonde blushed as he looked at Agger in that position in front of him.

He's just linking the guitar, there's nothing romantic - or worst, erotic - about it, Fernando scolded himself.

"All right?" The Dane stood up and the blonde realized they're standing really close, with only the Gibson Les Paul between them. Agger looked him in the eyes when he asked, and the Spaniard almost averted his eyes away from that blazing intensity when the Danish boy reached out to brush the hair off his forehead before his fingers strayed down to Fernando's freckly face, knuckles brushing his cheeks lightly.

The gentleness of his action stunned the Spaniard, he looked at the Dane with wide perplexed eyes. "Show them what you've got," Agger had whispered so low that others couldn't hear before backing away, providing some rooms for Fernando.

The blonde, still in daze, fumbled with the black instrument in his hands awkwardly. He hadn't practiced on electric guitar much, only when the Dane forced him to. Still, with fierce sound and heavy vibration, he preferred playing songs he always liked: slow music, though soft rock this time.

He chose _'You're the Inspiration'_ by Chicago.

The Spaniard didn't dare looking up at other boys when he started the intro. From what Agger had shown him off, they might expect a heavy metal or hardcore punk. They would be disappointed, though. He didn't opt for electric guitar in the first place - it's what Agger coerced him to do - it's too harsh and cacophonous for his personality. At least, this was his choice: the song.

The noise was piercing even when he plucked the pick lightly on the strings. Agger had heard him play this song before, it's one of the songs he chose to practice and the Dane kept telling him that his execution was too flabby. So this time he put more strength into the rhythm: he emphasized the key notes, ground out the tunes and harnessed the melody with his vigorous delicate hands.

_'And I know, yes I know that it's plain to see,_   
_We're so in love when we're together._   
_And I know that I need you here with me,_   
_From tonight until the end of time.'_

He didn't want to think about the lyrics, because he'd been thinking about them much enough. The blare of the guitar filled the room: the sound of vibrating strings without words. Still, Fernando felt like he'd shouted what he had in mind out very loud, though he actually had no idea how to put them into words, let alone verse. What he thinks and feels are beyond what he could describe with human language alone.

When words fail, music speaks, they say.

Or it might be that he's simply a coward who didn't have enough courage to tell the other what he really felt.

He finished the music with vehement vibrations and the room gradually fell quiet as echoes from the amplifier evanesced. When the studio was completely silent and it seemed that other six boys had been petrified some time during his performance, Fernando shifted his feet uncomfortably.

Then the first clapping sound came from Martin, and Agger was the second to move. He didn't clap or make any other sound, just walked straight to the blonde, huge smug grin on his face and it made the Spaniard's heart race so fast.

Agger had never smiled at him this genuinely ecstatic before.

"You did great," the Dane told him as his hand grabbed the strap and took the guitar off Fernando through his head for him. Other boys walked up to them and Agger turned around to face them, standing by the blonde's side like a guard.

"Well, that's impressive, I've never heard anyone play that song in this version before." A blond boy smirked. "I actually expected a hard rock, from the way ickle Danny coddles you." He glimpsed at Agger at that point, smirk hovering on his lips. "But I can see now that you're a classic type. Nice song choice, though. I'm Nick, by the way." He extended his hand and Fernando caught it for a shake.

Others' names were Christian, Raul and Simon. The last person who introduced himself was Martin, a skin-headed Slovak with tattoos fully-painted on his arms, just like Agger. "Your version's nice," he commented. "I noticed that Danny lent you his guitar. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't even let anyone lay a finger on it. You must be special to him."

Fernando blushed from that while Agger still looked good-natured. "Fuck off, Martin." The Slovak had eyed them suspiciously before walking away to his position in the group, taking his electric guitar from where he had put it against the wall. The others resumed preparing their instruments: Nick - drum, Christian - keyboard, Raul - another guitar, and Simon - lead vocals.

The band had six parts already, they didn't need another guitarist, or even a pianist since they had Christian. The Spaniard wondered which role he played in this league. Why did the Dane drag him here? He didn't belong to this place.

"We'll practice some songs for now. You can sit over there." Agger pointed to a bench at a wall, Fernando glanced at it then back to the Dane.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Just sit there and wait for me. Do your homework, maybe."

The blonde glared. "What? If I've already finished my business here, can I go?"

"To where? You'll come home with me anyway."

"Err, to play piano, or football? Why do I have to be here? You can call me when you finish." And why do I need to go home with you, exactly?

"I want you here," the Dane said simply. Fernando glared incredulously.

"Why? What for?"

"Just stay," he ordered then turned to flock with his friends. Fernando gaped at him, at a loss for words.

Eventually, he trudged to the bench and sat muddledly on. Pulling his homework out, the Spaniard tried his hardest to shut out all the noisy sounds, which was less than effective. After fifteen minutes, he abrogated the idea. Putting textbooks back in his bag, he sat with his chin in his hand, looking at the rockers performing some rock songs he didn't know. Simon's singing:

_“I want to know your fear, from your feet to the back of your ears_   
_When they raise the landing gear will your heart stay here?_   
_If you could forgive me for being so brash, well you..._   
_You could hit me or whip me, I'd savor each lash.”_

He looked at Simon, then at Agger. The Dane's plucking the strings intensely - he's playing lead guitar. The blonde felt his stomach flip every time he gazed at the other boy playing electric guitar, the rampant look suited him very well and enhanced his mutinous character, it made him reek of primitive virility. Agger kept eyes on his instrument mostly, but after Fernando had watched him for a full minute, it seemed like the Danish boy sensed his stare so he looked up, their eyes caught.

_“No more fighting. This is only a waste of our time._   
_'Cause soon we'll be leaving._   
_Will this strength still be mine?_   
_I'll look out for you 'til I die, 'til I rot._   
_I'll remember you 'til I die, until I rot.”_

Seriously, Fernando thought embitteredly, does this also have to be another love song?

***

"David."

Iker turned around at the sound and found Victoria standing there, textbooks in her arms and impatience in her eyes.

"Oh, hey," the English boy standing beside him greeted the girl. "How are you today?" Lame question indeed.

"I'm fine," Victoria said. "Would you come having lunch with me?"

David normally sat with his friends during lunch and Victoria with hers. She'd never bothered him except for dinner, until now.

"Umm, why?" The British asked guilelessly, Victoria suddenly looked furious.

"Because you're my boyfriend, that's why," she grumbled, and Iker almost tripped because of it. Victoria and David are a couple now? How? What? When? Where? Why didn’t David tell him? He felt his heart constrict, it made him nauseous.

"But I have to sit with my friends." That's typical David.

"You can sit with her," Iker blurted out, though he knew that 'David's friends' not meant only him. The Londoner turned to him.

"Why? Are you sure?" He flustered.

"Of course, I'm sure. You're her boyfriend, aren't you?" The Spaniard tasted sour in his mouth. He shouldn't have said that. Is he ready to know the answer? He wasn't so sure.

"Yeah," the English mumbled, didn't look the Spaniard in the eyes. His sudden discomposure was an answer enough and Iker felt his world crumbling down around him bit by bit.

He needed to get away from David as far as possible right now. "See you in class then," he muttered, setting off to the canteen without waiting for the Londoner's reply. David didn't follow him and when he arrived, he realized he had no appetite at all.

He turned around and stalked out of the building, to the lawn where the Spanish sun didn't shine anymore. Winter was arriving and everything in the world seemed dull, bleak and empty.

What did he expect, anyway? He knew from the start that this thing between them - whatever it was - was never meant to happen. He even helped David court Victoria in the first place and he should have apprehended by now that they're never meant to be. If there's something he hated the most, it would not be Victoria or David, it would be his heart.

Because it always betrayed him.

***

It didn't work like that. Gerard always knew it would never work like that.

Cesc doesn't like him, would never like him. Cesc liked girls, he had had two girlfriends before. Though he'd broken up with the last one a couple of years before and was now on some kinds of hiatus, Gerard knew the new girl would come eventually and what he could do would be just looking at them from afar with a heartache.

He couldn't keep on doing this because what he and Cesc felt weren't the same, he staggered in the confusing world, tumbled to who he really was, tripped over the surge of his inherent desire, until realizing he'd already fallen in love with Cesc. Not too late, quite too early, actually, seeing that one had understood who he really was and what he actually wanted since one was only twelve years old.

So he decided that he should move on, he couldn't live like this. It had been eating him up, killing him inside for four years now. He'd decided that he would drop a hint to Cesc first that he's bent, then he would date someone in front of everyone. Out of all the people he knew, Lionel Messi was his second-most favourite person in the world, of course his most favourite person was Cesc. He didn't care much what other people thought, there were loads of homosexual couples in this school and in this city, what he did care was Cesc's opinion regarding the issue. They'd never talked about this before and Gerard had no idea what Cesc thought, though he's quite sure that Cesc was straight, evidences be the two girlfriends he'd had, yet he would be ready to accept him for whatever he was.

What he hadn't expected was Robin van Persie.

The boy came out of nowhere, and Cesc didn't seem bothered just a bit by the idea of two boys getting together. It shocked Gerard, because he thought he knew what's in Cesc's head, he thought he understood him, he's his best friend after all.

But it appeared that he's wrong, he didn't understand a thing.

Still, that Cesc was gay didn't mean that they could be together. Even if Cesc wasn't with that Dutch, Gerard still insisted on them being apart, they're best friends for too long and their friendship was precious, too precious that Gerard wouldn't risk anything that would have a tiny chance in destroying it. They're better this way: friends forever, like Cesc had said.

He couldn't think of living a life without him.

So he chose Lionel and would stick to it. Lionel liked him enough, Gerard knew, and he liked Lionel enough, too. It's just that the fact about Cesc and Van Persie hit him very hard in the face. The notion angered him at first, then after some time, he'd realized that it's better to let Cesc go, he'd chosen this path himself since the day he'd asked Lionel out. He'd decided that they should be apart for a bit, not depended on each other's presence as much as before. He knew Cesc suffered, too, but he would cope with it eventually, just like their puppies. What more was that he didn't trust himself to control his thought to be 'just friends' when he's always this close to Cesc, always bantering and caring and touching one another. He needed some spaces between them, at least for now until his heart eventually comprehended that it couldn't think of Cesc Fàbregas that way.

So when Lionel Messi stepped in his house one day at the start of winter, Gerard asked without hesitation, "Lionel, are you free during the New Year’s hols? My family usually goes to Barcelona, we have relatives there, in case you'd like to come with us."


	13. Chapter 13

"Tell me again why are we here?"

Álvaro was holding a bottle of Mahou. Iker and he were at his house, Iker dragged himself here after school and announced that he wanted alcohols, so Álvaro was forced to steal some of his brothers’ from the fridge. He'd never drunk much alcohol before so he'd been sipping little by little off the same bottle for the past twenty minutes, contrary to Iker who'd finished two bottles in a row and was about to start the third. He was thinking about leaving some money where the bottles were in the fridge since considering Iker's consumption speed and depression degree, the rest of the beers wouldn't last long. They're still underage so walking into a supermarket to buy some compensation was out of the question.

Iker looked at the empty bottle in hand. He knew that Álvaro actually meant to ask, 'tell me again why are 'you' here?'. He didn't give Álvaro any reason when he asked to come over to the other Spaniard's house for some friendly drinks, he couldn't.

"I just need some companies," was what he could simply offer but that couldn't satisfy Álvaro.

"You know? If it's before, I swear the first one you'd choose to be your company wouldn't be me, but David." Iker looked calm, too calm in Álvaro's skeptical eyes that it looked really suspicious. "Something happened between you and David, didn't it?"

Iker still didn't look him in the eyes, he stared at the carpeted floor in front of the telly. "Don't you see that he has a girlfriend now? I don't want to bother him, David hasn't been taking a good care of her enough already."

True, but still..., "Iker, do you wanna talk?" Álvaro’s voice was full of concern. "I'm your friend, dude. If you have anything you want to discuss-"

"No," Iker cut him off. "Just...stay here, with me, alright? I don't feel like talking about anything now."

Álvaro understood, or at least he tried to.

Two hours had passed and eight bottles of beers had gone: seven by Iker's doing. His family would be home soon and Iker was now piss drunk. He didn't talk or act out but Álvaro knew, he'd never seen Iker this...depressed before, the boy just stared at the same spot on the floor minutes on end, his lids drooped and his skin was red all over. He didn't say a word but he's grieving.

It's like he was heartbroken.

"Iker, I think it's time to go home now," he said but the other Spaniard didn't seem to hear. He sat stock-still so Álvaro touched his arm lightly, it's flaming: alcohol effects. "Iker."

"Why am I like dis?" Iker blurted out. He turned around and Álvaro, shocked, found tears in those sockets. "Why can't I gat him off my head?"

Him? Who? "Iker, you're drunk."

"That's because I want to!" Iker bawled. "Because I couldn't gat rid of him when I'm fully conscious, so I thaught I could if I'm not. But I stall can't! He keeps popping up in my head, it's driving me crazy!"

"Iker, Iker, calm down. Who are you talking about? Who is he?" Álvaro’s at a loss.

Suddenly Iker's mobile rang, he fished it out, saw the caller’s name then threw it away on the couch. "Shit," he swore.

Álvaro caught the phone and read. It's David.

Of course, who else could it be? "You guys need to talk this out." Álvaro wasn't sure the 'him' was David but he had to test his theory.

"No," Iker snarled.

Well, well, isn’t he a genius?

"Whatever, you should go home now. My parents would be home any minute and believe me, you don't want them to see us like this." Álvaro shivered thinking what would happen if his dad caught him drinking, though it's only a bottle that he had actually been drinking.

"Righttt." Iker tried to get up but stumbled back into the couch. The Spaniard growled. Catching him by his arm, Álvaro tried to haul him up. Iker's phone kept ringing.

"Damn, why are you so heavy?" Gritting his teeth, he lifted Iker with all his might. Iker snickered and slung his arm around his friend's shoulder. Álvaro lost balance and the both of them tumbled into the couch again, Iker underneath Álvaro. "Shit, this isn't going to work." The slightly taller Spaniard eyed Iker's mobile which kept ringing, its screen flashing bright. "Can we please pick up the call? I might need David's help."

"No!" Iker snapped immediately.

"Iker, listen, you can't even stand up straight! I can't take you home by myself. At least can I ask David where he is and if he's convenient to come and help me?"

Iker was silent.

Álvaro took it as a yes. Thank God. He snatched the phone and received the call. "David," he spoke, the other end was silent. "David, this is Álvaro."

"Álvaro? What happen? Where’s Iker?" David's anxious voice was conveyed through the line.

"Err, here, at my house." Álvaro glanced at the other boy who's lying on his stomach on the couch, head in his folded arms. "Listen, David. Where are you?"

"On my way home, why?"

"Care to drop by my house?"

David’s silent for a couple of seconds. "What happen?"

"Well, Iker was a bit...tipsy."

"He's drunk?" David's voice sounded incredulous. "You guys have been drinking?!"

"David, shut up and come here. Are you far?"

"How drunk is he?"

"He's lying on my couch now, he couldn't stand up straight. I think he's a bit too heavy for me to handle alone all the way to his house. Will you come?"

"Yeah, sure," David answered.

 

David arrived in ten minutes, quite real fast. By that time Álvaro had cleaned up all the evidences. "We need to take him home," Álvaro announced as he led David through the living room where Iker was lying.

"Iker." The English boy reached the couch and slightly touched Iker's soft black hair. The Spaniard opened his eyes.

"Dave."

"Iker, we need to take you home." Catching Iker's arm, David tried to pick him up but the Spaniard suddenly shoved him away.

"Don't touch me!" He screeched.

David was stunned. Álvaro was shocked.

"What?" Álvaro asked in an incredulous voice. "Iker, this is David, our friend, you moron."

"Leave me alone!" Iker retorted.

"That couldn't be granted. You're in my house and you can't stay here in the next hour. We will take you home."

"Take him to mine, it's on the way," David said. Álvaro glanced at him.

"Fine, whatever. Are we ready?"

Taking him by each arm, they supported him out to the street. More than once that Iker tried to push and shove David away, the Londoner seemed surprised at first but he's patient and kept on supporting him without a comeback. Álvaro knew there's something going on between the two but he didn't ask. They arrived at a bus-stop and David said, "I'll handle him from here."

Álvaro looked nonplussed. "Are you sure? He's heavy, dude."

"I'll be alright. Thank you for taking care of him."

Álvaro clucked his tongue. "You talked like I'm someone far away. He's my friend, too, mate, in case you've forgot."

"Right, yeah." David smiled though a bit embitteredly. "See you tomorrow."

"I'll stay here until the bus comes," Álvaro insisted.

The bus they needed came in fifteen minutes and Álvaro bid them goodbye. Iker was silent most of the time. David dragged him up the bus and put him on a seat, the Spaniard didn't rebel and also didn't ask where they're going, until the English asked, "What’s wrong with you?"

Iker snapped his head around, the sudden movement made him giddy. "Shit," he said.

"Yes, you look like that," David sneered. "That's why I'm taking you to my house, don't think your mom would be ecstatic to see you like this."

"Are you ecstatic, den?" Iker asked. "To see me like dis?"

"Iker, what's up?" David asked, real concern in his voice. "If there's something bothering you, you can tell me, you know it."

No, Iker screamed in his head. How can I say something like that? Believe me, you don't want to hear this. "I'm fine," so he said.

David sighed. "Up to you then." And they sat in silence the rest of the way.

Iker still couldn't walk straight when they arrived at David's house so the British helped him up the stairs and put him in bed. "I'll get you some water. You can sleep here until you feel better then I'll send you home."

"David," Iker called from the bed, "don't go." The Londoner stopped short and turned around.

"Are you okay?" He walked up to the bed and sat beside the boy.

"No," Iker's voice was trembling, "don't go."

"Iker, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" David's panicked now. Iker didn't even know that he was crying, the stress he'd been holding all the evening now gushed out, fears and jealousy hazed his mind and he didn't even think about anything when he pulled David down to smash their lips together.

He's still drunk, he had to be really still piss drunk.

Otherwise what else would be a reasonable explanation to his action right fucking now?

***

"Damn, my skin's red now."

The beach was full of people, golden sand under his feet sparkled under bright sunshine as well as the turquoise sea in front of him right now. Water was splashed on his face while Cesc was scrutinizing his own reddened arm. Scrunching up his nose, the boy snapped his head up to find Gerard snickering mischievously.

"I think it's beautiful," the taller boy commented, he's standing in the sea with clear water lapping up to his ankle, under his arm was a beach ball.

"I'd never understand why people would like their skin dark." Cesc kicked the water and it splashed on Gerard. The taller boy stepped backward and instead flung the ball at Cesc, the smaller Catalan caught it before it hit his face.

"Nobody was satisfied with their bodies. Small people want to be tall, white people want to be brown. Like 'the grass is always greener on the other side'," Gerard said.

"Why?"

"Don't you want it, Cesc?" The taller boy quirked up his brow.

"To be darker? No. Maybe to be taller but I'm pretty satisfied with my height, thanks."

Gerard snickered. "Like when opposites attract, white people are more likely to attract to people who have darker skin, tall people are more likely to attract to people who are small."

"Are you saying that you like dark short girls, Gery?" Cesc chucked the ball at his friend, Gerard caught it.

"For me, I like small people, yes, but I think your skin right now is just fine."

Cesc laughed. "What? I'm flattered, dude. So apparently I'm categorized as 'darker people' now but not short enough for your taste."

"Well, no." Gerard smirked cockily. "You're short enough."

Cesc bared his teeth, "dickhead!" and lunged at the taller boy without a caution. Gerard laughed so hard while both of them lost balances and fell hard into the waist-height turquoise sea.

"Cesc, aren't you flattered? I just said that you're my type!" He almost choked on the sea water by the last sentence since Cesc hadn't stopped strangling him.

"Thanks, but sorry that I can't fulfill your fantasy since I'll not wear skirts and have boobs for you in this life!"

But I don't need skirts or boobs, Gerard thought as his 'fantasy' of Cesc flashed into his mind, the one that had haunted him for so many years now. I don't want soft skin and long hair, shorter or darker people, nor anything more than this.

All I’ve ever wanted is simply you, Cesc.

***

"Fernando, put more wild emotions in it."

Fernando gritted his teeth, it's the third commands that came from Agger this evening. They're playing Foo Fighters' song _'The Pretender'_ with Agger's band. The Spaniard had heard the name of the band before but their music wasn't his cup of tea.

"Danny boy, easy on the newcomer, mate." Martin walked up to them. "Why do you have to be so harsh on him? He's actually doing quite fine."

Yes! At least someone’s seeing my effort here! He'd been trying his best all evening though he had to admit that playing rock songs wasn't his forte and his style was more suitable to classical guitars. He didn't understand why Agger had to keep pushing him especially when it's not even HIS idea to do this in the first place.

It's like he's Agger's apprentice or something.

"Fine. Keep doing it like that then," the Dane said but with dissatisfaction in his voice. Ignoring him, Martin ordered other band mates to start over again. But Fernando couldn't just ignore it like that, he saw anger combined with disappointment in Agger's dark eyes and bile came up in his throat. He didn't understand Agger's behaviour, why did he drag him here? Why does he keep pushing him? Why is he angry, or even disappointed? He didn't understand a fucking thing.

What the fuck is this all about?!

Fernando played the song while half of his mind kept wondering how come everything ended up like this. Simon's singing, his powerful voice said,

_'What if I say I'm not like the others?_   
_What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays_   
_You're the pretender_   
_What if I say I will never surrender?'_

"Fernando, you're playing the chord wrong," Agger's voice snapped and everybody stopped playing. Fernando who didn't know what's that he'd done wrong since his mind had been somewhere else for the past minute stared at the electric guitar slinging across his neck and shoulder.

Then he took it out.

"Hey, Fernando, where are you going?" Nicklas asked but the Spaniard didn't answer. Putting the guitar away, he walked to the bench where his bag was lying, snatched it and exited the studio in mere seconds.

The sound of shutting door and heavy footsteps told him that someone followed him. "Torres, what's wrong with you?" The Dane's voice was calm. Fernando's fury flared.

"What's wrong with me?!" He spun around, Agger stopped short, they're facing one another in the middle of the corridor. "There's nothing wrong with me! Agger, it's you! What the fuck's wrong with you?!"

"What the fuck are you angry at? I just said that it's the wrong chord you're playing," Agger said calmly. Fernando tried to labour his breaths.

"Stop ordering me around," he gritted his teeth.

The Dane shrugged. "I was just trying to improve your skill."

"What the fuck are you actually trying to do?"

"To make you a better guitarist," he answered. "You have potential, Torres, just needed to be cut and polished. I'm trying to make you see that you can do it and it's not that difficult."

"Why?!" Fernando asked. "You have six parts in your band already, you're even borrowing your friend's guitar yourself. You needn't me."

"Raul will graduate soon, we'll need a new bass player," Agger said.

"What?" Fernando glared. "That's more than half a year away!"

"He’ll have to study harder to apply to the uni so he wouldn't have that much time playing around anymore, alright?" The Dane looked frustrated now, he turned around. "Will you come back?"

And if I won't? Fernando thought as he looked at the Dane's back that's leading the way back to the studio. And if I don't want to do this? Have you ever even asked my opinion whether I would like to be in your band? Whether I would like to play electric guitar? Potential or not?

But he didn't want to argue with Agger again right now, he didn't want to argue with Agger EVER. He sighed, though with pique full in his chest, he followed the Dane's footsteps back to the studio.

He guessed he'd give it another try then.

***

The sound of cicadas buzzing in the grove was so loud it drowned out other sounds like teenagers laughing or playing football not far away. The first rays of sunlight that could break through the clouds made today's afternoon lively, and the clouds were moving away further showing bright blue sky which was a good sign that it might stay clear for the rest of the day.

"In England, we have three seasons in a day, so don't be so sure," Steven said as he lay on his back on the grass. Xabi chuckled.

"You weird British," he murmured.

"Well, we have our own charms."

"Oh, for real?" The Basque snickered good-humoredly. "What are they?"

"The way everything’s weird for you." He turned on his side, they're lying side by side, soaking up the warm sunlight, inhaling the smell of summer grass and listening to the song of cicadas. Xabi turned around to face him.

"Am I weird to you, too?" He asked.

"Yes, of course. You're a super-physics nerd, there's no one out there like you." Xabi laughed.

"Okay, let's tell one another what's so weird in each other's eyes." His eyes twinkled. "My turn, what's so weird about you is...you were chosen to be the leader of the team but you don't actually like any branch of sciences in particular."

"Is that an insult?" Steven pouted. "When they chose a leader, they don't assess how deep knowledge in sciences one has, rather, they chose by how good one can lead people, that's why they're called leader."

"That's why I said it's weird," Xabi said. "Your turn."

"Your accent." Steven chuckled good-humoredly. "It's weird."

"Well, sorry I don't have accent like yours, which I'm glad, for your information."

"Okay, now that's an insult." The Scouser looked really offended. But when he looked around to find the Basque biting his lower lip to hold back laughter, the scowl suddenly turned into a smile.

"Okay, my turn then. Still, you're the team's leader but you have a rebel mind. You know you have to act like a law bearer of the team, be the good boy so that everyone will respect and obey you when you're in charge and order them to do something, but sometimes, well, most of the time, you just couldn't resist it." Xabi smirked. "Like when you took me out to downtown, or when you suggested we ditched the boring guided tour to sightsee the rest of York."

"Well, the Minster’s real boring. You'd think like me if you've been living in this country for almost two decades."

"You said like an old man." The Basque smiled. "It's worth the time, though. Apparently I've been living in Spain for the best part of my life, not here."

"Don't you think your time in Liverpool here is the best part of your life?" Steven propped up on his elbow, his eyes sparkled with naughtiness. Xabi bit his lip again.

"What make you so confident in that?"

Steven still smirked. "You like me with the rebel mind, don't you? Otherwise you wouldn't be sticking around since that day I took you out to dinner. Though you're a physics genius, you don't mind at all that I'm not really good at anything in particular regarding sciences as long as I could be a hot captain on board. I bet you like my sexy accent, too. And don't you like Liverpool? I've been living here for the best part of my life but I still have to say it's one of the most charming cities on earth."

"Wait. Firstly, who've been sticking around? That's you, not me! I'm not gonna say anything about your scientific mind otherwise you'd say I offend you again, as well as your accent which I find very hard to understand. Besides, you're so vain. Other than that, yes, I love Liverpool."

Steven laughed so hard. "Isn't that my Scouser's charm then? Everything that you find weird about me."

"Weird is weird, Stevie. Not charming."

"You don't mean what you said." The Scouser still smiled while Xabi found his face getting closer and closer. The Basque's heart skipped a beat. The next thing he knew was that Steven's breaths were hovering over his face, they're warm and intoxicating...

Xabi closed his eyes.

Soft lips touched his, slightly at first like Steven wasn't certain what to do and would he actually have the permission to do so. But when Xabi showed no resistance and practically kissed back a bit, the Scouser got bolder and deepened the contact.

The first time they kissed, it's chaste, just lips against lips and nothing more. After that time they hadn't done anything. This was the second kiss of Xabi's life and as surprising as it was, like the first kiss, he never doubted or wavered. He kissed back passionately, like there would never be chances like this again, and when Steven's hot tongue thrust in the cave of his mouth, he moaned.

He didn't know how long their kiss last. When the Scouser pulled back eventually, Xabi felt like there's something missing and would definitely jump the other boy for contact again if not for the question Steven shot him in a whisper, "when you go back to Spain, will you forget me?"

The Basque was taken aback by the desperation underneath that heavy accent, he'd never thought about this before. "I guess not," he murmured finally but Steven didn't seem to be satisfied by the answer.

"If I take you out to dinner one more time, would that make you remember me better?"

"Tonight?" His voice was more than anticipating.

"We can go now if you want." The Scouser ruffled the other boy's hair affectionately.

"Then let's go." The Basque got up and Steven chuckled. He followed as Xabi walked backwards, imitated his move that first time they went out together. "You're in then?" He also imitated Scouse accent which succeed somewhat that sent Steven laugh so hard.

"I'll go wherever you go."

***

"You going somewhere on Christmas hols, Cesc?" Carles asked when they were dressing after a game one day.

"I haven't thought about it yet." Cesc put his t-shirt on. Images of previous Christmas holidays flashed into his mind, they're all spent with Gerard. He'd always been with Gerard and his family on this holiday, mostly in Barcelona, only once or twice that they went somewhere else, like Andorra for skiing. Cesc felt something bitter in his mouth and he hurriedly brushed the thoughts away.

"I heard that Gerard would take Lionel to Barcelona this time," Carles said dismissively and put on his t-shirt so he didn't see when that sentence took effect on Cesc's face.

"What did you say?" Cesc heard himself ask, his voice sounded foreign to his own ears.

Carles looked at him. "Oh, it's nothing much. I asked Gery and he told me he'd be going to Barcelona, but instead of with you this year, it'd be Lionel. No surprise, though, seeing that they’re practically joined at the hip these days." He shrugged and turned away to put his stuff in his bag and Cesc was grateful for it because he didn't really know what kind of emotions his face was displaying from the knowledge. At the moment, he felt like he's punched in the face, gutted in the stomach, then hit against the rock head first. But all those feelings were fleeting: the shock, the hurt, the anger, the jealousy. The last one that remained on his face and he didn't know how to make it go away was the feeling of heartbreak.

Cesc, what did you expect, though?

"He told you that?" He asked hoarsely. What hurt the most in all this was that Gerard didn't even think of telling him about it.

"Umm, yes? You okay, Cesc?" Carles was uncertain when he noticed Cesc's countenance.

"Yeah," Cesc replied faintly though he totally felt crumbling inside.

Carles was silent for a couple of seconds, hesitant, but eventually he seemed to decide against it and spoke up, "well, I know you usually go to Barcelona together, but you can't actually blame him this time. Lionel's his boyfriend anyway. And you have Robin," he pointed out. "He won't like it, too, if you'll go to Barcelona with Gery, you know."

Cesc had almost forgotten about Robin. If Gerard would take this opportunity to strengthen his relationship, maybe he should as well. "Yeah," he answered.

It's a month to Christmas holidays and when Robin asked whether he'd like to go to Amsterdam together on the hols, Cesc didn't hesitate.


	14. Chapter 14

Time flew by...not that fast, but before he knew, there were only four days left before his parents would return from their trip and Fernando would go back to his house, to his normal life.

To say he's glad was a bit a lie. Well, he's glad that his parents would be back, eventually, and he could go back to live a normal routine in his own home, sleep in his own bed, it's what he'd always wanted from the first day he stepped into Aggers' house. What he hadn't expected, though, was the feeling of loss that's churning in his gut and clenching his heart right now.

Agger’s band didn't have practice session today and Fernando was glad he had at least one day of peace that he could do whatever he wanted. It's not that he didn't want to be with Agger, but if being with Agger meant he's forced to do what he didn't want to do, he'd better not spending too much time with him.

So after class, the Spaniard hop to play football with his chums and dilly-dallied at a cafe in the neighborhood so that he could have a peaceful place to finish the Mayan civilization book. It's just a random cafe where he thought was a perfect place to hide from the world, particularly Agger, for a while. He didn't think the Dane would be able to find him here, not like at his house.

When he went back to Aggers' house, it's in time for dinner.

"Where've you been?" Agger asked the instance he spotted Fernando at the dining table once he trailed down the stairs.

"Around." He shrugged and paid too much attention to the fillet he's cutting with his knife.

Agger didn't say anything further at the table but Fernando could actually feel the umbrage radiating off the Dane's body even when he’s sitting across the table, of what he had no clue. He paid no attention to it nonetheless and only hoped in vain that after having finished dinner, that dissatisfaction would eventually dissipate.

In vain, apparently, since once Fernando got up to their room after having finished dishwashing, he found the Dane lying on the couch with a book in his hand. A book! Fernando didn't even know Agger was literate.

"What are you doing with my book?" The Spaniard narrowed his eyes, in Agger's hand was unmistakably his Mayan civilization copy.

"Trying to figure out what about these Mayan people that have captivated you so much," he answered without averting his eyes to the Spaniard and turned the page leisurely.

"I've never allowed you to touch my stuff." Fernando gritted his teeth and stalked to the couch, intended to snatch the book from Agger. The Dane held it away from the Spaniard's reach.

"I have the right to touch everything in my room," he said and Fernando was taken aback. "Including you."

"What?" Fernando found his heart beating fast. Agger sighed and put the book down but didn't look the Spaniard in the eyes.

"How was your day?"

The blonde was bewildered for a moment. "Cool. Why?"

Agger got up off the couch and Fernando found that he's rooted to the spot. He almost asphyxiated because of having been holding his breath for too long when the Dane walked up to him, his fingers brushed the Spaniard's bang off his forehead lightly and the blonde had to resist the urge to turn to his hand and nuzzle against it. "There were only four days left," the Dane mumbled.

Fernando's heart beat faster. He didn't know Agger had paid attention to him that much and he clearly didn't understand the meaning of that sentence, there were only four days left and so what? What does Agger want?

Agger dropped his hand and Fernando's heart sank. "You did well yesterday," he said and turned away. "That song is actually quite difficult but you played it correctly for the most part."

So everything came down to this, then. Fernando thought as anger flared in his chest. The only thing that you concern about me is how I serve your purpose, it'd never been more than that. You're good to me because you want something in return and never actually care about me, aren't you?

Fernando suddenly felt puny, he didn't know why he's disappointed, or maybe he knew but just didn't want to accept the truth. A couple of days ago, he thought he'd give it a try, whatever Agger wanted from him, he'd try his best to make him appreciate. He's thinking that right now, just a bit down realizing that he'd never actually been anything to Agger more than a substitute for Raul Meireles.

"I'm flattered," he mumbled in a low voice and was about to turn away when Agger caught his arm.

"Let's play some songs together," he said.

The blonde quirked up his brow. "What song again? I've been playing songs with you every day already." There's an edge in his voice.

"Not rock songs. Your normal classical guitar songs. I haven’t heard them in a while."

Oh, so you realize, he thought bitterly but didn't voice it. A tiny chunk of his heart leapt in his chest that at least the Dane knew what he preferred, though he didn't feel like touching any guitar whatsoever right now, he'd had enough for almost consecutive three weeks. "Come on." But the Dane fetched the guitars for them both and settled down in the couch. Fernando trailed to the spot a bit unwillingly. Agger was strumming his old dear guitar good-naturedly so the blonde caught his.

"I've nothing to play," he said. He'd never practiced any song other than what he'd showed Agger, he didn't have time.

"Why not?" Agger's playing a song leisurely, if he didn't mistake, it's Usher's _‘Nice and Slow’_. "Tell me your favourite songs and I'll play."

Fernando paused to think. "Broken Strings?"

"Why? Its meaning doesn't suit my mood right now." He still strummed Nice and Slow.

"So why the fuck did you bother asking me? Just play whatever you like!" The Spaniard snarled but he’s still good-humored. Putting despotic trait aside, this was Agger's character that Fernando liked: charmingly headstrong which was so dangerously attractive.

  
Kept playing the song, Agger paid no attention to the blonde. Fernando sat there listening to whatever the Dane offered, it's nice, simply spending time with Agger without worries that he'd displease the Dane at any minute. He liked Agger like this, when he played a song, he'd solely focus on it and nothing else, like he's drowned in the flow of his own marvelous music. When it's a rock song, his demeanor would be wild and outrageous like the rhythm, but with songs like these, his mien would be gentle: nice and slow indeed.

"You know what? If staring at someone could eat them, I'd have only bones left," the Dane said after having finished the song. The Spaniard's cheeks heated up immediately. "Found what you like?" He looked at Fernando, mischief sparkled in his dark eyes.

And he liked this, too. Fernando thought in shame though he couldn't even stop his cheeks from flushing in embarrassment, he liked the way Agger's always overconfident and so self-centered, like the world always revolved around him. He's freakingly good-looking, Fernando had to admit, it's not strange for someone that good-looking to be very confident of their own appearances, plus the sharp-tongue trait he got, this attitude of his was almost an obnoxious attribute.

But Fernando loved it still.

"Great performance," was all the Spaniard could mutter. He clapped hands for more effect. Agger smirked.

"By a great player, too." He put the guitar aside. "You know what? Since you said Broken Strings was your favourite song, why don't we practice them together in the four days we have left?"

The blonde raised his brow. "Don't we have to practice with the band?"

"No, we'll just leave that for now." He looked at Fernando and lifted his hand to stroke the blonde's freckly cheek. The Spaniard stiffened, their eyes locked. "I'll teach you how to be a pro guitarist in four days." Agger smiled and ran his thumb over Fernando's lower lip.

The blonde caught that thumb between his teeth and sucked it.

Fernando didn't even know what he's doing and only realized after, it's completely on a whim but his eyes had never wavered from the Dane's. Agger's eyes widened slightly, he's surprised by the Spaniard's unforeseen reaction, clearly he'd never thought Fernando would have the gut to do something like that. The blonde's breath hitched just almost imperceptibly, like he's afraid the other boy would sense his sudden nervousness. He scooted backwards and the Dane's hand dropped from his lips because of the distance, but of course, Agger would never back off.

He grabbed Fernando's forearm and pulled him in to crush their lips together.

Everything happened so fast. Fernando's eyes widened, he thought about shoving Agger away but instead his hands clung to the Dane's arms and didn't let go. So after a couple of seconds, he indulged and closed his eyes. Agger's hands were on both sides of Fernando's head so he could control him and his lips felt like fire when they contacted his. The Spaniard gasped because he felt the need for some air and Agger took that opportunity to thrust his burning tongue in. Fernando almost choked, not only because of the lack of oxygen, but also the heat Agger brought with him. He didn't know what made him dizzy more: the level of carbon dioxide in his blood, or the steaming passion the Dane was coercing into him via their connected lips.

So Fernando kissed back with abandon, he moaned into Agger's mouth and put both hands on the sides of the Dane's head as well. He sucked his tongue, gulped in the air off Agger, and Agger moaned aloud into their mouths. Until eventually the Dane, whose air was stolen, seemed in need of oxygen, too, so he pulled away. His hands were still on Fernando's face and he panted against the Spaniard's lips. "Shit, Fernando," he hissed.

The blonde was hyperventilating. He locked eyes with Agger's and what he saw there, pure lust, sent shockwave straight to his groin. His mind snapped, leaving him frozen.

What the fuck am I doing?

The Dane didn't leave Fernando to breathe long, after a couple of seconds, he plunged in to kiss him again. Fernando gasped, but this time he summoned all his strength to push him away. The force of it almost sent the Dane tumble off the couch but he caught the backrest in time. He seemed stunned, too.

"What the fuck now?" The Dane snarled after he'd taken in the reverse dynamic. His breaths were still coming in and out in quick successions but his eyes were full of confusion, there's no spite in them the way Fernando was afraid of.

"I...," the blonde tried to even out his own shallow breaths. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he whispered, and he didn't mean he's sorry that he'd just shoved him away, he knew Agger knew that.

The Dane was silent for a moment, then... "What?" There's anger in his voice now.

"Look, Agger, I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean it to happen like this-"

"How did you mean it to happen then?" The Dane blurted out, and amid the flaring anger, Fernando almost flinched as he detected hurt in that voice. "Torres, you sucked my tongue!"

Fernando flinched this time, embarrassment made him flush red.

"I-I don't know, it just-" happened, he didn't know why and really didn't want to know right now. "I'll get downstairs." He suddenly got up off the couch.

"Don't you dare leave!" The Dane snarled suddenly. Fernando was paralyzed in his tracks. The next thing Agger said stabbed him like he'd feared. "Why the fuck do you have to fight it?!"

Fernando felt dizzy again. "Why do I have to fight what?" He asked feebly.

"You know what the fuck I'm talking about!" He snapped. "I told you I can prove it."

The blonde was boggled for a moment, then something slowly dawned on him and made his stomach heavy like a box made of rock full of churning ice and fire.

_"We'll see."_

"What?!" He spat, fury that flared bright from nowhere almost blinded him and his chest burnt. "Is that what this is all about?! Because you want to prove your stupid theory?!" Fernando felt like the floor was pulled out under his feet sending him tumble even while he’s standing.

Agger stared at him, then the corner of his mouth quirked up and the blonde felt like punching that freckly handsome face until he could smirk no more. The feeling of nausea made him want to vomit every wonderful moment he thought they had had together until his gut was empty, and then puked his stomach out as well, then his intestines, his lung which was burnt into ashes because of the fire of fury in his chest, as well as his heart which was crushed into pieces because Agger's words were so malicious they broke it.

Fernando was stunned by his own thought.

"Aren't I correct?" The Dane asked, stood up and walked over, smirk still played on his lips and now there's a strong determination in his eyes. Chills ran down Fernando's spine as Agger stopped only inches in front of him, and he’s frozen yet again as the Dane lifted his hand to gently touch his lower lip like he'd done - what? - just less than five minutes ago. Something flickered in the Dane's eyes - something akin to affection? - or maybe it's just a state of mind because unconsciously Fernando just wanted it to be that way so much. It appeared only for the blink of an eye then it's gone, just like an apparition, he wasn't even sure it's not the pure product of his imagination, whether it's real. "Are you still denying it now?" There's clear triumph in Agger’s voice.

The Spaniard’s hands formed into fists, he's shivering with anger but the Dane didn't notice, or maybe he did but mistook it as a product of scare. Though with the Spaniard’s eyes ablaze, Agger caught Fernando's chin between his index and thumb and lifted it so their faces were on the same level, he slowly leaned in, his lips aiming at the blonde's. And from those tender gestures and almost soft look in his eyes, Fernando almost indulged himself again by closing his lids and savoring the taste of Agger.

But he didn't.

Fernando punched him.

***

_He used to wonder what it would be like to be in love with his best friend._

Iker woke up and felt the world moving in circle. Well, normally the world was moving in circle but he'd never felt it literally moving under his feet before. Today, he felt.

It took him almost a full minute to take in the situation and his own condition, it came out as no surprise, though. After that, the first thing that popped up in his mind was this notion,

He used to wonder what it would be like to be in love with his best friend.

The Spaniard got up and the room was spinning real hard so he had to flop back down again to stabilize his balance. The duvet was soft and Iker closed his lids as he snuggled up and inhaled the smell of detergent mixed with sweat and sex: David's odor. Something churned in his stomach when he thought about what happened in this bed less than ten hours ago...

Shit. What time is it now?!

The thought made Iker spring up in bed one more time, eyes wide, and his head was so hurt from the move that it felt like someone hammered his skull from the inside. He squeezed his eyes tight and lifted his hand to massage his temple. For a moment he didn't know what day it was, so he thought back to yesterday again.

And yesterday was Wednesday.

Slowly opening his eyes, Iker squinted around to find an alarm clock he knew was on the bedside table, its short hand was between number 9 and 10. It's very late now.

He tried getting up and felt less whirling this time. Looking for pieces of clothes scattered around the bed like someone had ransacked them, he found his shirt at the other end of the room. Having dressed up, the Spaniard’s about to get down to look for David but he halted because apparently this scene looked quite like the one after the night they slept together for the first time.

During his pondering, the door opened and the English boy walked in. "Oh, you're up," David greeted, smiling his gorgeous smile. "My mom left us some sausages and bacons. You can take a shower first if you want." He's still in his pajamas, too.

"David, we're late," Iker stated simply.

The British paused. "Iker, it's almost ten now." He snickered softly. "Just ditched it, I didn't think you're in a condition that could go to school."

The Spaniard flinched. "Does my mom know I'm here?"

"She knew that you stayed over here last night."

Iker nodded tiredly. "Can I borrow your towel, then?"

David's smile widened. "My pleasure." Snatching his towel which had been hanging on a cloth rack, he stepped out in the hallway and led the way to the bathroom. The Spaniard followed in silence until they both stepped into the bathroom.

"Ok-" he's about to say thank you when the British locked the door behind them. Something churned in his gut again and his heart beat real fast. "What are you doing?"

David turned around and took off his shirt through his head unceremoniously. "Care if I join?" He grinned mischievously. Hot blood rushed to Iker's face immediately.

"David! How about others?!" He hissed, even in the locked bathroom and he's quite sure no one was upstairs.

"There's no one here. Iker, do I need to tell you again that it's almost ten?" The English quirked his brow up naughtily like a confident womanizer that he was. And to prove his point, he took his shorts and boxers off in one swift movement, let them fall to the floor and stepped out of them.

It's not that Iker had never seen the other boy naked - saying such things would be super-hypocritical - but David's nudity made him blush harder nonetheless. The other boy stopped as the Spaniard turned away from the sight, he would have thought that Iker would be accustomed to this by now. "Don't you like what you see?" He teased, the smile widened and Iker felt like hitting him with the towel.

"Oh, fuck off, David!" Grumbling in mortification, he turned around and took off his clothes. When he's completely naked, inhaled deeply and was about to turn around to face the dream-like reality, a warm body pressed against his back.

Iker's breath hitched.

Hot breaths on his nape made him shiver, then wet lips connected to his skin and the soft kisses were so tender as the English's arms wrapped around his bare torso. David ran his lips up to the Spaniard's ear, his ticklish spot. He winced and struggled to get free but David's arms were stronger and didn't let him. He gasped as David's hand slid down to his crotch, his head leaned against the wall for support as the British's deft hand stroked his shaft slowly so.

"D-Dave." He tried to even out his breaths. "I thought we're...-fuck!- going to...-ah!- t-take a s-shower-"

"Easy." Snickering against the Spaniard's nape, David's hand squeezed the other boy's cock teasingly sending him jolt. "We are."

He didn't let Iker go until the Spaniard climaxed.

And when they got into the shower, the British's hands were still all over Iker's body, washing him thoroughly until finally they pinned him against the wall. Water poured out of the shower, steaming, and the sound of water hitting the floor and their skin drowned out their gasps and moans as David entered him.

After the great shower-in-the-morning sex, they dressed up and went down for breakfast. And after those routines: shower, sex and breakfast, his hangover had got much better.

"Why had you been drinking last night?"

They were still sitting at the dining table and David chose that moment - after Iker had been well-fed, cleaned and basked in an afterglow - to ask the question he had in mind all morning. The Spaniard didn't flinch but he didn't look the English boy in the eyes either. He'd almost forgotten about that, those pains seemed so far away now when David's actually here in front of him.

"It's nothing," Iker lied, still didn't look the other boy in the eyes. "I just felt like drinking, then I got too drunk." He shrugged to emphasize that the event held no significance.

"Are you sure?" David's brows furrowed. "It's just out of character for you."

"It's nothing."

"Hey," Iker looked up and found that David had stood up and reached across the table, the tip of his fingers gently caressed the Spaniard's furrowed forehead and brows which he hadn't known he'd made, then down the bridge of his nose to the corner of his mouth and pinched that cheek teasingly, pulled it to make Iker look smile-like. "If you don't wanna talk about it now, I'm not gonna badger. But do know that I'm here and ready to listen to you anytime." He smiled a soft smile that made Iker feel warm inside. "And stop making that face."

"What face?"

The British shrugged while sitting down. "Like I pull out before you reach your orgasm," he said nonchalantly.

"David!" Iker gasped, scandalized. David laughed.

"You laugh now." He chuckled softly. "Feel better?"

"Yeah," he lied again.

"Would you like to go outside? Or stay in bed and have another go?" He quirked his brow, his tone was so unconcerned like it's the most normal question in the world. Iker's face heated up, he felt mortified for the British who didn't even seem to have a tad of shame. He chucked a napkin over the other side of the table, it hit David's face dead on, even his reflex wasn't fast enough.

"Pervert!"

***

"Where are we going?" Xabi asked. It's still early and Steven said since they had time, he would take him somewhere first.

"Surprise." The Scouser smirked. They were on a bus going inbound. The sky was bright and the weather was warm, Xabi was used to this kind of climate in Spain but Steven was so excited about it, he didn't get it often enough.

The Basque didn't ask further and sat in silence, he looked out the window to the bustling streets where crowd from almost all over the city came out to bask in the sunlight. The town looked alive today, not nouveau, Liverpool was still its same old city with rich history as the second wealthiest harbour city of England or 'the New York of Europe', but it looked like the city had been resurrected after its long and sound slumber under the curtain of heavy and dim showers and overcast and leaden sky for the most part of its life. Xabi smiled at the liveliness in general as the bus passed by tall brick buildings which looked brighter than the last time he'd been out with Steven, at flowers that looked more colorful and trees that looked greener along the cobbled streets. It made him want to jump out of the bus and join the public emotion right now.

It didn't take long until the bus arrived at a street and Steven nudged him to get up. Xabi followed the Scouser to the door, the street was less bustling and wasn't a commercial zone at all. Along the road were orange-bricked townhouses, only some of them had front-door signs indicated as pubs, restaurants, pizza places, bakeries, grocery stores, or laundries. Xabi quirked his brow but followed Steven down as the bus stopped silently. The Scouser had glanced to check that the other boy had got down safely, naughty smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he turned and walked. The Basque quickened his paces a bit so he could catch up with him.

"Where are we?" Xabi asked.

"Couldn't you guess?" Steven winked.

"Your house?" He tried.

"Genius boy." The Scouser turned right to another street, then after a few yards turned again to a townhouse. He walked along the path with Xabi following not far behind and the Spaniard waited as he fumbled with the key.

The door was opened and he turned to Xabi. "Well, welcome to my humble shack, your grace." He stepped aside. "After you."

The Basque quirked up his brow and Steven grinned back. He got in and the British followed. "Mommm?" Steven bellowed as he closed the door behind. The next second, a woman's voice shouted back.

"Stevie?!"

The sound came from the other corner of the house and Steven tracked it immediately. Putting his hands in his pockets, Xabi trailed after his friend slowly like he wasn't sure what to do. He looked around and found that the townhouse wasn't as humble as Steven claimed, there were a spacious drawing room on his left and a dining room next to it, on his right were rows of cabinets which Xabi reckoned to store shoes, coats, umbrellas, and other miscellaneous stuff, and then the stairs.

"What are you doing here?! You can't come and go from the camp as you wish! There's a reason I sent you there, you know?" was what Xabi heard from the direction Steven had disappeared to and it made him flinch a bit. He didn't know what to expect from Mrs. Gerrard, Steven had never talked about her before.

"Why? So that you can have some peace while I'm away? Fourteen years too late, mom. And I also come here for a reason, I want you to meet my friend. Xabi."

His cue had come. Xabi inhaled deeply, straight back and chin up. A feeling that he needed to make a first good impression on Mrs. Gerrard came out of nowhere and he walked with a suppressed anxiety into a room which was definitely a homey kitchen.

"Mom, this is Xabi. He's from Spain." The first thing Xabi saw after turning the corner was the big boy Steven hugging his mom - who's standing in front of a stove - from behind. The Scouser grinned widely at him in encouragement. Xabi glanced at him before turning to Mrs. Gerrard. The woman was as tall as her son with long brown hair, she doesn’t look beyond her 40th birthday and is still very beautiful. He could see immediately that Steven got his eyes from her, the eyes that looked at him in surprise for a split second before suddenly turning tender.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Gerrard," the Basque greeted politely. His hands were in his pockets like an awkward teenager that he was who didn't know what to properly do with them.

"Hello, dear. Stevie didn't tell me he would bring home guests otherwise I'd have dressed up more properly." She looked down at her worn-out apron which might have been white once but now off-color that was over her long-sleeved blue shirt and smudgy khaki gardening pants, all of them Xabi didn't bother to notice at first because she looked simply gorgeous anyway. Mrs. Gerrard murmured in a low voice, "damn, Stevie."

The Scouser laughed and Xabi couldn't keep himself from smiling.

Mrs. Gerrard excused herself to get changed. In the meantime, Steven dragged Xabi around the house showing him this room and that. The house was large like he thought and the British's room was as messy as a normal boy's bedroom would. But the part of the house that fascinated him the most was the garden. The first instance that Steven opened the back door and Xabi stepped out, he's rooted to the spot.

The dirt part under his feet was narrow and it led to both right and left directions, disappearing behind green shrubs with pink, blue, yellow, and every other possible-shades-of-colored flower in between. Big trees stood beyond the shrubs creating patterns of lights and shadows on the green-grassed ground by filtering the afternoon sunlight like some perforated designs. Xabi could tell that the garden was large and very beautiful indeed. He didn't wait for the Scouser to lead the way when he walked along the path in the right direction. Butterflies hovered over clumps of long-stemmed Alliums and bees buzzed from a Lavender spike to another. The sun was so strong until he could smell Chlorophyll burnt from the grass and feel the heat of the earth under the sole of his shoes.

Xabi stopped under a maple tree where there was a bench and sat down. Steven flopped down beside him with both arms on the backrest and looked at the Spaniard from the corner of his eyes. "Do you like it?" He asked.

"Yeah, this is very beautiful." Xabi looked around with bewildered brown eyes. "Your mom tends to them?"

"Yeah, she loves gardening. More than looking after me anyway." He chuckled, and then they both fell silent, like the quietness was required to appreciate the beauty of the surroundings. The Basque was aware of Steven's arm behind his shoulder. He could hear Chaffinches chirping in a low voice from the foliage above their heads, otherwise everything was quiet.

"So, is this what they called an English garden?" A few more minutes and Xabi blurted out. Though he agreed that silence enhanced the magical ambience and made it even more surreal, he found he's nervous.

"Umm, yes, I guess. What does a Spanish garden look like by the way?"

"Less messy?"

The Scouser laughed. "That must be the charm." Then he shifted to lay his head on the Spaniard's lap. Xabi stiffened.

"Is this wise?" He asked uncertainly though his fingers had already run through Steven's messy short brown hair. "What will your mom say if she finds us like this?"

"If she comes, I'll hear," he replied.

So they stayed like that for Xabi didn't even know how long. The fragrances of Oriental Lily nearby and sometimes Garden Phlox occasionally were wafted through the wind. Though sitting in the shades, the stuffiness of dog day started to take a toll on him and his lids drooped, his legs were long dead when Steven who he thought had been asleep eons ago shifted.

"We shall get back," the Scouser announced, his hair was even messier when he got up. He combed to make them into a design or another.

"To the camp?"

"No, not yet, to the house." He got up and held out his hand for Xabi to use as a leverage.

They walked in and found the kitchen pervaded with the salivating smells of mash potatoes and steaks. "Whoa." Steven caught the counter and leaned over to look into a pot of limestone soup.

"You hungry yet?" Mrs. Gerrard asked as she stepped back into the kitchen in clean clothes, wiping hands on a napkin.

"Umm, yeah. But at first I was thinking about taking Xabi out to a nice restaurant around here...," he trailed off, glancing at the Spaniard uncertainly. Xabi was about to reply but Mrs. Gerrard cut him off.

"Then you realized no restaurant can cook quite like me," she said and walked up to the pot to stir the soup. "I was about to call out for you because the steaks are ready. Did you just follow the smells back inside?"

Steven grinned. "I suppose."

So they had dinner at Steven's house, which was really good. Xabi didn't have an opportunity to meet Mr. Gerrard who Mrs. Gerrard said would be back around nine. The sun's still up when they took a bus back to the camp and as they sat, Xabi next to a window and Steven next to the aisle, the Basque entwined his fingers with Steven's.

The Scouser didn't look at their hands but at Xabi's eyes and Xabi realized he's going to miss this: the looks in Steven's eyes, the scent of him, the heat of his breaths, the warmth of his skin...

Damn, how bad he wanted this summer to last forever. "Thank you," he said in a low voice.

"My pleasure." Steven smiled and squeezed his hand. As the setting sunlight shone through the bus window spreading warmth over their bodies and they lapsed into silence, Xabi dropped his head on the Scouser's shoulder and closed his eyes.

 

In the end, they'd never said the three words to one another.

Xabi had never known the other boy’s feelings, he didn’t even know his. He’d never thought of asking what all of these meant, though, and their story was over unresolved. On the last day of their summer camp, they hugged, and Xabi could see tears in Steven's eyes but he didn't mention it.

"I'll e-mail you, yeah?" The Scouser asked, patting Xabi's back but it seemed like he's the one who needed that encouragement at the moment.

"Sure." There's a lump in Xabi's throat. His hands were around Steven's waist and he never wanted to let him go.

"Please tell me when you arrive home safely." He touched Xabi's cheek with callous hands.

Xabi swallowed hard. "Okay."

They didn't even kiss goodbye. He felt so alone and empty as he boarded the plane back to Spain. He looked out the window to the concourse, the sun was burning outside but Xabi felt so cold. After a while, the captain announced their take-off and as the plane flew over the harbour city, across England and the English Channel to Continental Europe where his home was, Xabi felt like he had left a chunk of his heart in Liverpool.

***

"I heard that you're going to Amsterdam."

It's the first thing Gerard said to him when they met at Cesc's house one day. Arsenal and Bazooka jumped each other as soon as they saw one another like they'd been apart for years not days. Cesc felt sorry for them though he might feel sorrier for himself.

"Umm, yes." Cesc headed for the kitchen, intended to avoid this conversation but the other boy didn't let him slip away easily.

"With that Dutch?" He almost sneered by simply saying Robin's nationality. Cesc's heart raced for it and he had to scold himself to stay calm. Gerard's words didn't mean anything, Cesc, stop being a fool and face the reality.

He took in a deep breath. "Of course."

Gerard was silent for a second. "When will you leave?" He didn't look at Cesc when he asked and Cesc felt weird by the words, it's like Gerard asked when he would leave him rather than when he would leave for vacation, and he felt his stomach drop.

"On the 21st," he said. "You?"

"I'll go after Christmas." Gerard caught a rubber ball up off the floor and squeezed it. "When will you come back?"

He's frustrated now. "Why would you care?"

Gerard chucked the ball at the near wall, it rebounded back to him. "I care." There's an edge in his voice and Cesc's heart had gone crazy again. But he could feel like floating for only a second before the bubble popped. "I don't like him."

Cesc seethed. "Well, I don't think your opinion is required here," he snapped, and just felt the need to add, "He’s my boyfriend so it has nothing to do with you."

Gerard flinched by the word 'boyfriend' and his face twisted uglily. "I have no rights now, haven't I?"

Cesc wanted to shout that Gerard had never had rights in the first place whatsoever. "Yes, you don't! You're going with Lionel anyway so shut the fuck up!"

Gerard looked up at him, pure curiosity in his eyes. "Are you going to Amsterdam to spite me?"

Cesc's heart beat faster. "No! I'm going because Robin's home is there and he's my boyfriend!" He felt the need to say that word again, this time just to make sure he didn't forget the fact himself. No one knew better than him that he would go as far as the end of the world to spite Gerard but no one could know that, especially Gerard himself.

Gerard's eyes wavered but he wasn't completely bought. Cesc broke their eye contact because he's afraid that they would betray the truth. After a while, Gerard said, "guess I'll see you after the hols then."

"Merry Christmas." Cesc bit his lips and felt tears prickling in his eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Cesc," Gerard said before turning away and walking out of the room.


	15. Chapter 15

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Agger shouted as he pulled his hand away from his nose and found that it's bleeding. Fernando just punched him and he felt so very satisfied that his hook could cause this much damage to the handsome face of Daniel Agger.

He just so deserved it.

"What's wrong with me?" He sneered. "What's wrong with you, Agger? You're so retarded that you think everyone would spread their legs for you if you ask for it?"

Agger found a towel and put it against his nose to stop the bleeding. "No." He smirked even with the nosebleed. "Everyone would spread their legs for me even if I didn't ask." And he winked.

Fernando seethed. "You bastard!" He grabbed a pillow and hit Agger's face with it. The Dane yelled but the Spaniard had already stomped off the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

He'd been angry at Agger for the next two days, ignoring everything the Dane said and acted like he didn't exist in his world until Agger changed tactics from trying to provoke him to moping.

It's their last day together, eventually, and Fernando had already packed almost all of his stuff. He thought about what would have been if Agger didn't idiotically attempt to prove his point, they might have been practicing songs Fernando liked. Alas, Fernando hadn't touched the guitars neither classical nor electric since they fought and he intended to leave Agger's guitar here, of course, so he mightn't have a chance to practice them again. That made him sad a bit, he loved playing guitars, but if the cost of it was that Agger would have a control over him, it wasn't worth it.

Fernando's in the room when Agger returned, he looked more frustrated than usual and the Spaniard quirked his brow curiously but didn't say anything. The Dane caught his guitar and strummed loudly like he’s channeling the smoldering emotions through it. He played some rock songs Fernando didn't recognize, the noises were so loud just like on the first days he arrived but the blonde decided he'd sit through it just because it's his last day and despite his better judgment, he wanted to spend these last minutes with Agger.

Then an intro started and Fernando stopped whatever he's doing, which was packing the lasts of his books. This one was softer than the lasts, both the rhythm and the sound. He knew this song but he didn't want to turn around and look at his reflection in Agger's eyes, not right now.

_'Everybody needs a little time away_   
_I've heard her say_   
_From each other'_

Fernando didn't move but he knew Agger knew that he had got him, even for a minute, and it'd make him no good. So he resumed packing, pretending that he didn't hear the attempted apology silently written in the rhythm.

_'Hold me now, it's hard for me to say I'm sorry_   
_I just want you to stay_   
_And after all that you've been through_   
_I will make it up to you_   
_I promise you, baby'_

But, of course, he didn't hear it, Agger would never say it out loud anyway.

As Agger finished the song, Fernando turned back but still ignoring him. He walked past him to his bed but the Dane caught his arm. "You know what? I don't know what to do with you anymore," he said.

Fernando froze. It's the first time in three days and nights that Agger touched him. It's not the first time that the Dane tried to speak with him, though it might be the most polite sentence from him so far. In other previous times, he tried to rouse or irritate him, he'd never tried to speak like grown-ups with him before.

But Fernando still didn't forgive him. "I don't know why you bother. I'm leaving tomorrow and you can even avoid me for the rest of your life if you want." It hurt a bit saying that, he admitted.

"I don't want to avoid you, Torres." He gritted his teeth.

"Then I'll avoid you," Fernando shot back immediately.

Agger squeezed his arm tighter. "Why do you have to make it so hard?" He almost snarled. Fernando snapped his head in the Dane's direction, his arm's hurt but he's trying not to show it. He glared at Agger.

"Let me go," he said threateningly. Agger glared back at him challengingly.

"Never in this life."

Anger flared in his chest. Fernando pushed the Dane's chest and Agger lost the grip and almost lost his balance. "YOU are the one who makes this hard, Agger!" He yelled. "When everything was going great, YOU had to be the one who ruined it because you had to prove your fucking point. You couldn't stand to lose a game, could you?!" The Spaniard was breathing heavily now.

"This is not a game!" Agger snarled.

"You make it look like one!" Fernando shouted back. "It's you that have a problem! You couldn't even admit it to yourself but you threw accusations at me!"

"What are you trying to say?" His eyes narrowed.

"Oh, come on, Agger, don't play innocent." Fernando sneered and stepped closer to where the Dane had been sitting, chest still heaving hard in exasperation. He leaned closer until his lips touched Agger's ears. "Just admit it already that you want to fuck me."

The Spaniard pulled back but then Agger caught his nape. Their faces were only inches apart and they stared at one another challengingly. Fernando smirked spitefully and pushed the Dane's chest but Agger also caught his forearm and this time the blonde didn't even try to resist, he plunged in and crushed their lips together.

Everything happened so fast.

And the gasping sound of surprise from Agger's mouth that rang in his ears was just so worth it.

***

After a time, their communication had faded from an e-mail a day to an e-mail a week and then a month. Xabi had been busied pursuing his education until he'd almost forgotten about Steven, though there would always be a place in his heart for him. Steven didn't seem to have a problem with that though and eventually they'd lost contact.

Right now Xabi's staring at the wallet in his hand, both in awe and confusion. Steven Gerrard was in Madrid, then.

But why had he never told him?!

Had he completely forgotten about him? The knowledge burnt in Xabi's chest until he's sure he would choke on it. Though they'd never really talked much in the past year, he's still hurt and confused. The situation seemed so incredible that for a minute there he convinced himself that that's a different Steven Gerrard altogether or that someone had stolen Steven's wallet from England and dropped it here.

He didn't even know which of these was more impossible.

They took the wallet to the information counter and described the incident to the staff. She announced on the mics which could be heard all over the mall for Steven Gerrard and all the time Xabi felt like there's something ringing in his ears. She asked whether they would like to stay and meet him. Pepe was about to say that it's fine and they had to be in the cinema in ten minutes but Xabi cut him off, "We'll wait."

Pepe and Luis looked at one another uncertainly but they didn't protest. So they waited. Xabi's heart palpitated until he’s ached with every passing minute and he sweated hard. It seemed like forever before eventually a boy approached the counter and Xabi felt like he might implode.

It's Steven Gerrard. The real Steven Gerrard, though he seemed taller and more muscular than the boy he remembered three years ago. It wouldn't be a surprise if Xabi walked past him on the streets and couldn't recognize him. Everything about him looked more mature and he's more handsome than ever that Xabi couldn't take his eyes off him. As he walked up to the counter and noticed the three of them, his eyes caught Xabi's and he stopped dead in his tracks. They stood only metres apart. There's a glint of surprise and confusion in those brown eyes he'd never realized he missed so much until now but just for a split second before it turned to joy.

"Xabi?" He uttered incredulously. The name sounded foreign to his ears because it seemed like eternity since he heard his name spoken by that voice. And like it turned on some switches in him, all the memories of that wonderful summer came rushing back at the same time until he felt dizzy but still stood his ground like the last warrior.

"Hello, there," he said.

And with that, the British smiled. His smile was like the summer sunshine and it's the same as Xabi remembered. "Hello, there, too," Steven said.

***

He used to wonder what it would be like to be in love with his best friend.

Surely Iker had never imagined it'd feel like he's throttled by an invisible grasp and it tried to drag him down a river and drown him all the time. He actually felt okay at first when he had David to himself and couldn't care less about the whole fucking world, but then David's phone would ring and he's retrieved back to the inevitable truth and as David left him for Victoria, the invisible grasp was back around his throat and he'd feel like drowning again. The feeling intensified as days passed and he kept having this routine with David. Not only because he's jealous, but also because the idea that he's having a liaison with David behind Victoria's back just felt so wrong that it slowly creepily ate him away inside.

But the harder he tried to resist, the more he plunged into it.

And it hurts, it fucking hurts.

It's not boy's curiosity, Iker knew it. It might start off as one, or not, since theirs inclined to start off by the lack of self-restraint during insobriety. It might be a sexual-release channel from girl's carnal enticement in David's case, but for Iker, it meant every-God-damn-thing more.

The second time he ended up with a bottle of beer in hand at Álvaro's place, it's Álvaro's idea. Iker's curious more than most because he could see that Álvaro had something in mind. And it would do to have some companies on an evening like this when David was nowhere to be found, likely out dating Victoria, though he doubted he'd end up the same as the first time: piss drunk and wailing like a lunatic idiot and in David's bed.

It's only the two of them again and Iker was nursing his second bottle of Mahou when Álvaro shot him a very direct question, "you slept with David, didn't you?"

Iker almost choked. "What?!"

"I'm not an idiot, you know?" Álvaro sipped his beer sedately like this conversation was the most normal thing in the world. "I'd noticed for a time that there's something going on between the two of you, I just couldn't put my finger on it. Until recently that I started seeing you in a new light and everything just clicked into place." He snapped his fingers. "I'd been such an idiot, it couldn't be more obvious that you're in love with him."

Iker tensed, he didn't expect this, not at all. "How obvious is it?" He asked dryly, beer already forgotten.

"Pretty much, actually." Álvaro stared at him over his bottle as he drank it like to evaluate the situation from Iker's reaction. "But don't worry, David's pretty much the epitome of beauty without brain, he'd never have figured that out himself."

Iker didn't reply to this and he seemed to remember the bottle in his hand again so he sipped off it.

"How long do you plan to do it?" Álvaro asked suddenly.

"I don't plan on anything," Iker snarled, staring at the telly without actually taking anything in.

"He has a girlfriend, you know? A very beautiful one, indeed." There's challenge in Álvaro's voice but also a cautious tone which Iker hadn't heard since they started this bizarre conversation. It's like the mention of Victoria was another factor entirely and Álvaro also seemed uncertain of how this variable would affect the equation.

Iker sipped his beer again. "We're friends."

"Friends don't sleep together," Álvaro said. "Not on regular basis, anyway."

"Have you ever heard the term 'friends with benefits'?" Even when he said that himself, the cruelty of the truth stabbed him in the chest.

"You might be able to fool yourself but you couldn't fool me, Iker Casillas." His tone brooked no argument. "You think of him more than that."

Iker took in a deep breath. "What do you want from me?"

Álvaro stared at him, he finished his beer then leaned in to put the empty bottle on the coffee table. "I want you to stop this, whatever it is."

Again, Iker didn't expect this. "This is none of your business," he snarled.

"Oh, yes, it's fucking is." He leaned back against the sofa. "You're my friend, and David is, too. I don't like what's happening here. The way I see it, you'll end up being damaged, real bad."

"It's still none of your business."

"If you can't bring your mind to care less about your own sanity, then think about Victoria. She's innocent and you can't keep doing this to her and waltz around like nothing happens. Don't you feel guilty at all, Iker? What happen to your moral codes? I've never known you're a shameless bastard."

Iker clenched his hand into a fist. He knew Álvaro was trying to provoke him, to make him snap, and now he felt guilty, embarrassed, disparaged, and angry. "It'd soon fade away." He meant the feelings he had for David, he hoped, though.

"By that time, it'd be too late. Do you think you'll eventually get anything out of this relationship you have? You won't, and it will consume you. You'll get hurt, more than this, more than you can even imagine. And I saw that it'd already taken a toll on you, it's out of character for you to get drunk and cry like a baby, and you always look forlorn lately when you thought no one noticed. Sure, when David's around, you're happy like a puppy, like Christmas has arrived already. But when he's not there, especially if he'd gone with Victoria, you look heartbroken. That's how I know, you know?"

Iker felt tears prickling in his eyes but trying to hold them. "I would do it as long as David's happy."

Álvaro snorted. "Oh, what are you? A bitch in bed, a best friend indeed?" He paused, looked at Iker seriously, like, more serious than before. "You don't even care about your own happiness, do you? Are just a few hours a day that he could be yours enough? You're being selfish by not letting him go, not to say that this is so sinful on many levels. Aren't you happy about that, Iker?"

"Shut up, Álvaro, you don't know anything!" Iker yelled, feeling trapped, tears trickling down his cheeks noiselessly. "Do you know what it feels like? I feel like a whore whom he comes over only at night to only have sex with. Should I be happy about that?! I'm pathetic and feel convicted already as it is, Álvaro, I don't need you to judge me!"

"I'm not judging you, dude, I'm your friend and I'm trying to knock some senses into you right here. Iker, look at me." He leaned closer and Iker looked at him, he found that he couldn't stop the tears from running down his cheeks. "I understand what it feels like though I couldn't say I know it myself because I've never been in your shoes, but I want to help you. I know this is hard, man, but you need to stop this. You can't think that your happiness doesn't matter, relationships don't work like that. The longer it goes on, the harder it is to end. For your own sake, and David's, too," Álvaro ran a thumb across Iker's cheek, caught a teardrop on its way down to earth, "let him go."

Iker stared at him, lost for words. Pursing his lips, Álvaro leaned forward to hug Iker, holding him tight while letting the other cry noiselessly. Iker's head was blank and he didn't know what to think anymore.

 

His phone beeped once, a new message received. Fishing it out, David stared at the screen as he opened a short message from Iker.

_'Museo Reina Sofia. 3p.m. If u can.'_

David quirked his brow but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It felt like ages that he hadn't gone to any art exhibition with Iker, they seemed to think with their dicks lately and seriously David didn't mind though he kinda missed those evenings where he strolled along the corridors full of indecipherable brushstrokes with his best friend, too.

It's Saturday and he'd just finished lunch with Victoria. Normally they'd stroll around the mall in the afternoon and Victoria would shop, David would trail behind like a good boyfriend that he was and carry her bags. It's kinda boring, he admitted, and a visit to an art museum with Iker could be a nice change. Until now, he thought he knew Victoria enough to talk her into letting him off-duty early without getting mad at or looking suspicious.

He texted Iker back that he'd see him there.

***

Amsterdam wasn't like what he thought at all.

The city was cold yet bustling with festive activities. The days were short and the nights so long but in Amsterdam, the nights were more alive than the days. Neon lights and the sounds of punk rock music in Red Light District, curious tourists and energetic locals in the cafés at every corner, the smell of weeds and magic mushroom tea in the air. Cesc tried marijuana brownies and thought it tasted funny, he found out later that it didn't keep the fun to itself but made the world funny, too.

They're strolling around the Museumplein, the sun was setting though it's only half past four. Cesc stopped and thought, how could the sun set when it's only four? It's not even logical, like the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, like the sea goes dry and mountain blows in the wind like leaves, kind of.

Robin's arm was on his shoulder and he's giggling at the yard. "Look at the grass, Cesc, it's so greeeen," then he hid his face in Cesc's neck and laughed. The Spaniard looked at the grass and laughed along helplessly though he found that the way Robin said 'greeeen' was funnier than the fact that the grass was green, even in the mid of winter. Why isn't it orange like the Netherlands National Football Team's kits? He wondered. And why are the football team’s kits orange, anyway?

Then Cesc laughed because at the moment a man walked past them wearing the Netherlands National Football Team's jersey and it's so oooorange that it hurt his eyes. Robin thought he laughed because of the greenness of the grass so he laughed harder then dragged the Spaniard to sit down on them. Cesc complied and couldn't keep his balance while lowering himself so they ended up tumbling on the ground and laughed harder.

"Robin, you idiot!" Cesc laughed.

"Can't you see? They're greener than Harry Potter's eyes!" Robin pulled a handful of grass off the soil and rained it on Cesc's head and shoulder.

"How do you know how green Harry Potter's eyes are?!" Cesc asked back, he caught the bits of grass off his hair and chucked them back at Robin's face. The Dutch opened his mouth to catch them and the gesture sent Cesc laugh so hard. Then before he could see it coming, Robin's eyes flashed with something similar to naughtiness before the gap between them was closed and the Dutch's lips were on his.

The grass was green and they tasted even greener when Robin push his tongue in the cave of Cesc's mouth and brought the grass with it. So he chuckled because of their greenness and Robin laughed, too, but he still didn't let him go.

Cesc caught the other boy's collar and kissed him back. He's high, happy, and couldn't think about anything beyond the present, neither the future nor the past. All he saw was right now, he on the ground under Amsterdam’s winter's setting sun with Robin and he'd never felt like this before.

If weeds could make him forget the cruel reality like this, maybe he should take them every so often.

***

Time seemed to stand still and for a split second Fernando panicked that Agger would push him away. But as the Spaniard's fear rose to the highest point, Agger's grip on his nape and forearm tightened then he felt the world pulled out from under his feet as he's thrown onto his back in the couch. Fernando yelped softly but then the Dane's lips resumed their place on his and what he thought of protesting was swallowed in the cave of Agger's mouth. The blonde sucked in the air when finally the Dane released his lips and his burning mouth trailed down his jaw to his throat instead. His hands caught Agger's shoulders but he didn't resist anymore.

"Fernando," Agger moaned against Fernando's neck and shifted to align his body with the Spaniard's. Fernando knew what's coming so he braced himself, sucked in a deep breath. The Dane looked at him with an indecipherable gaze. And when he ground his groin against his, Fernando jolted nonetheless.

Fuck. The blonde bit his lower lip and turned away. When Agger rubbed himself against him this time, he made it slow, and nice. The Spaniard's breath hitched and he heard the Dane gasp as well. Agger shifted again and this time his hand suddenly cupped Fernando's bulge.

Fernando gasped, Agger squeezed him through his jeans and fondled him slowly. The blonde couldn't resist arching into the touch and moaning loudly. The Dane smirked, leaning over until he could lick the underside of the Spaniard's ear and bit it while unbuttoning and unzipping Fernando's jeans hurriedly. The blonde squeezed his eyes shut but he still jerked when the Dane reached his y-front and stroked his hard cock through it. It's still not skin on skin but the absence of jeans made so much difference, Agger's hand on him felt even more real.

Fernando's hard as a rock and his underwear was straining until it felt almost choking but somehow having the other boy's hand stroking him through it felt as hot as fuck. The idea of Agger fucking him crossed his mind not for the first time and his heart beat even crazier realizing that reality was getting closer to his imagination. The Dane pushed the jeans down the Spaniard's long legs and Fernando kicked them out. Agger's hand found his crotch again and this time his fingers trailed below the tenting cock where pre-cum had already wet a spot on his y-front to the Spaniard's balls then the perineum then the anus.

Fernando gasped as Agger's middle finger rubbed his hole like trying to push in but didn't. His legs spread wider on instinct and he flushed harder realizing what he'd done. The Dane's finger teased his pucker through his underwear and the muscle there twitched spasmodically out-of-his-control. And from the Dane's hitched breaths, he knew that only the idea of the head of his cock breaching it might be enough to pull the trigger since they're simply horny teenage boys.

"Shit, you're hot," Agger snarled then he dove, his lips gliding the outline of Fernando's erection and the Spaniard jerked. The Dane pressed his lips on his cock and put more pressure when they reached the head through his underwear. Fernando's breaths were erratic now and the wet spot on the white cotton spread wider. When finally Agger pulled away and pushed himself up, the blonde groaned in irritation and hit his head back on the pillow which he didn't know he'd had it up in anticipation. Agger smirked by the corner of his lips and pulled his t-shirt off. The Spaniard was immediately fascinated by the Dane's naked upper torso, he'd never known Agger was this muscular. Though he still looked lean like when he had clothes on, the biceps, the abs, the pectoralis were obvious and decorated with tattoos here and there. Fernando's breath caught in his lung, he'd never realized Agger was THIS beautiful. And the notion that he thought the Dane was even more beautiful when he's naked made him blush harder.

Then Agger fumbled with the button of his own jeans and the blonde tensed. They're stepping over an unknown territory now, on Fernando's part at least. The anticipation was too much and his heart raced crazily. Agger pushed his jeans away and what under them was in no different condition than Fernando, his cock was tenting his y-front so hard. The Spaniard swallowed. Sure, he knew he'd been acting like a gay porn star up until this point but to be honest, he didn't know what to do, with that cock in front of him, with boys, with Agger.

Lust ran down his spine from his brain straight to his cock and he couldn't help his hand from running up Agger's thigh to his hips. He laid it there, panting and lusting and couldn't avert his eyes from the Dane's crotch, shameful that he was. Through the cotton fabric, the blonde could see that it's well-hung and his mind raced to the naked image of it already.

The Dane leaned down again to brush their cocks together and Fernando couldn't resist the moan as he arched into the touch like he wanted this more than anything in the world. They looked in each other's eyes as they rubbed themselves together and the Spaniard's sure his eyes were pleading, begging, for something he wasn't even certain. There's something in Agger's dark eyes that sucked his soul into orgasmic delirium. He grunted then suddenly bit back the moan as he was about to explode when abruptly the Dane caught his hips and turned him over.

The Spaniard gasped, his cock was humping against the cushion of its own accord now and he felt Agger slid his cock into the snug space between his bum cheeks. "Fuck," Agger snarled. Fernando had noticed before that everyone both boys and girls seemed to be fascinated by his butt though he never really knew why and he also never knew it could do THAT. He gasped again at the same time as the Dane as he slid his erection up and down the crevice even when their bottoms were still clothed.

This was too arousing. Fernando squeezed his eyes shut though he’s panting hard, trying to concentrate. But after a couple of seconds, Agger hissed and caught the waistband of the blonde's underwear, hurriedly tugged it down. It caught the Spaniard's erection so he had to lift his hips and help with the shedding. His bare ass felt chilly but the next sensation as Agger put his bare cock in the crevice again felt like nothing he'd experienced before.

"Fernando," the Dane moaned in his ear as he dry-humping the blonde's ass. He bit Fernando's ear and the Spaniard gasped louder. "Fernando." It's like Agger wanted to say something but he couldn't put it past the choking arousal in his mouth. One of his hands which previously was on the blonde's ass slid to Fernando's entrance.

And Fernando knew, he knew what Agger was thinking and chills ran down his spine because it scared him. He'd never done this before and didn't know how it went and he doubted Agger knew how to do it. Has Agger slept with boys before? He found himself asking and a flash of jealousy burst in the back of his mind. Who was it, then? But before he could ponder more on the topic, the Dane rubbed the pucker of his ass with that finger sending the Spaniard jerk, his mind's immediately retrieved back to the present and he tensed.

"No, don't tense," Agger whispered in a raspy voice in his ear as he continued to fondle that bit of nerves and skin with his middle finger. "I'll put some lotion on it, don't panic." Then he got up and left the Spaniard there. He lay panting, feeling chilly when the warmth of Agger's body deserted him. But the Dane didn't leave him to recover long, he soon returned and Fernando braced himself hard for what's coming.

The coldness of lotion on Agger's middle finger was something he could expect but not the feeling of arousal it brought with. "Fuck!" Fernando bucked his hips. Simply the Dane's finger rubbing his entrance was rousing more than he could bear.

Then Agger experimentally put the tip of his middle finger in.

The Spaniard’s hands clenched the supple cushion. The Dane's finger felt cold against his muscle inside and he shuddered. It felt weird, but then when it continued creeping inside, it hurt. "Relax," Agger whispered again when feeling Fernando's wall constricted around his finger.

How could he relax when there's something invading his body?! The blonde gritted his teeth and tried his best to 'relax' and felt Agger's finger creep further inside. Then suddenly the finger was pulled out, but not all its length, then was pushed in again. Fernando gasped shocked and Agger kept on finger-fucking him. The feeling was really weird: a mixture of hurt and pleasure, and it tugged at his underbelly until he felt the need to release but he held onto the last straw for dear life.

Then the Dane changed the rhythm and Fernando felt something try to squeeze in, must be another finger, so he squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself again. He didn't know how Agger planned to do it because the space was cramped already, but he shifted and adjusted until it fit in. Fernando groaned and pressed his face further into the cushion but the Dane caught his hip and pulled it up.

Suddenly the Spaniard felt self-conscious, his butt was up in the air and Agger was staring at his hole and his two fingers were inside him even. This was so embarrassing. He felt he'd lost the total control of the situation and he'd never remembered feeling this powerless before.

Another finger was squeezed in with Agger's astonishing penetration skill that Fernando didn't even want to know where he'd learnt it from. The Spaniard gasped, his inside burnt as the Dane's fingers grazed against it and he started to wonder how long he could take this when Agger pulled out.

The feeling of void shot through him and Fernando grunted. The Dane's invasion hurt him though he'd admit that it felt better when there's something fulfilled him. It just felt...whole. Agger caught his hips and turned him over. The suddenness of the movement made Fernando dizzy and the immediate glaring light on the ceiling made him blind for a second. The Spaniard squinted and when his eyes could adjust to the light and be opened again, he found that light wasn't the only thing bearing into him.

Fernando flushed, feeling self-conscious again when he realized Agger had been staring at his naked body under the glaring light. His cock was glistened with pre-cum and the Spaniard instinctively pulled his legs together to hide the salacious image. But the Dane had caught his knees and forced them to stay spreading before reaching over to squeeze the blonde's hard erection. "Agger!" Fernando's warning was ground out of his gritted teeth but he clearly didn't have the heart to swat Agger's hand away.

"Easy," the Dane murmured consolingly. He grabbed the blonde's cock in one hand while lowering himself and aligning his cock to Fernando's entrance with the other, his eyes that stared into the Spaniard's soul never wavered. Fernando tensed so Agger tugged the blonde's cock hard and it worked because his mind was suddenly distracted. He jerked and panted and moaned aloud.

Fernando felt the head of the Dane's cock push against his entrance and tensed again but Agger knew better than to forget pulling his weight. The Spaniard caught the Dane's forearms and he knew Agger must be hurt because he dug his nails into those tattooed skins like an anchor of his life. When he felt the head of the Dane's cock breach him, he screeched and ground out, "Daniel!"

The head is bigger than three fingers combined with large girth and everything. It pulled his muscle tight and Fernando felt like at his breaking point until he almost screamed in agony. But the Dane leaned down to crush their lips together so what the Spaniard was about to voice was immediately swallowed down Agger's lung. "No, no, don't scream, baby," Agger whispered against the blonde's lips. Fernando squeezed his eyes shut as the Dane kept slowly pushing in and pulling out to make him relax. "Gosh." Agger gritted his teeth, also squeezed his eyes and the blonde knew how much restraint the Dane had to put on himself now. He knew Agger wanted to just fuck him senseless but had to hold back because he's afraid he'd hurt him. Fernando found that was both cute and irritating at the same time.

The blonde grabbed Agger's head and crushed their lips together again fiercely. The Dane choked against his mouth and Fernando lifted his hips so the other boy could have easier access to his inside. "Don't you hold back," the Spaniard snarled against the Dane's lips, bit Agger's lower lip frustratingly as a bonus. "Fuck me like I know you've wanted to since the first day I stepped into your room, Daniel Agger."

Agger stared at him like he couldn't believe that those words actually just came out of Fernando's mouth. The blonde didn't know what he's asking for, even. They looked at each other challengingly then the Dane pushed Fernando's legs apart even wider and the Spaniard gasped aloud as he felt Agger's cock slid in further.

"My pleasure," Agger said and kissed him.


	16. Chapter 16

Xabi couldn't concentrate at all during the movie.

He'd swapped numbers with Steven already but they didn't have much time at the time, Pepe's nagging that it's movie showtime. The shock still didn't wear off of him and he kept fidgeting until Luis elbowed him once in annoyance. He wanted to talk to Steven rather than sitting here watching something that couldn't get through his optic nerves. He'd asked, and Steven’s answer was that he arrived in Madrid as an exchange student in Colegio de Fomento el Prado just a week ago and he intended to surprise Xabi. Of course he'd never forgotten about the Basque, he'd just been so busy with his new life that he hadn't had time to meet up with Xabi yet. Of course he intended to 'have time' during next week.

Xabi didn't believe this shit at all, he felt hurt that Steven might have totally forgotten about him or maybe not forgotten but - he didn't know which was worse - he just didn't want to contact Xabi anymore. Maybe Steven had already got a new boyfriend, or girlfriend for that matter, so he thought it's inappropriate to still keep in touch with someone he used to kind of date though it’s three years ago. That made senses and it hurt even more.

But Xabi's more than willing to overlook that bitter part. Already taken or not, Steven and he could still be friends and Xabi realized that he’d missed him a lot. They'd have so many things to talk about. The Spaniard suddenly missed the time they had together in Liverpool. He'd never yearned for it since he came back and life returned its normal rushing pace, the memories of summer in North West England was so far away like it happened in another lifetime. But now that Steven’s here, everything came rushing back and the memories seemed more real.

When the movie finished, the first thing Xabi did as he exited the cinema was fishing out his phone. He's thinking about texting Steven asking whether they could meet up but the awaiting text on the screen was from someone else.

It's Mr. Anonymous.

He'd already forgotten about him.

 _'You still don't answer my question,'_ the text read.

Xabi had already forgotten about it. What question? Right now texts from Mr. X seemed like happening in another life instead of the events in Liverpool, like he's just kicked back in time from the second he saw the name Steven Gerrard. The Basque scrolled up to see their previous conversation and found the question.

 _'Um, I don't know.'_ He didn't have the mood now, really. He closed their chat window and contemplated texting Steven. What should he say? _'Shall we meet? Are you free this afternoon?'_ Sounds unconfident, really, and a bit desperate. _'Let's have dinner'_? This looks much better, he feels like he's the one who controls the game. The Spaniard selected Steven's name off the list and typed. Taking in a deep breath, he hit send then waited. His friends got in the toilet so he followed them, they're discussing about what to do afterwards but Xabi didn't listen.

Five minutes passed and his phone vibrated. The Basque's heart drummed in his chest. Holding his breath, he opened it up.

_'The answer is dehydration reaction. What's wrong with you today, Xabi?'_

The Basque exhaled loudly.

"What's up?" Luis asked.

"No, nothing." He put his phone back in his pocket. "We're going somewhere?"

"Pepe wants to have an ice-cream."

"You're the one who wants to do that!" Pepe retorted.

So they went to an ice-cream parlour and Xabi kept glancing at his phone on the table. He hadn't texted back to Mr. Anonymous. After twenty minutes had passed, his phone vibrated again. Xabi snatched it from the table so fast his friends stared at him opened-mouthed and wide-eyed.

_'Tonight?'_

Xabi couldn't keep the smile to himself.

_'Yes. R u free?'_

_'Sure. Where? We swap places now, u r the local so u'll bring me somewhere nice. ;)'_

The Basque smiled at the memory of them strolling along Liverpool walking streets and having dinner at a restaurant at Albert Dock. He'd try to think of some nice restaurants in town, maybe they'd have some at Puerta del Sol.

_'R u still at the mall?'_

_'Yeah.'_

His smile was wider. Luis was looking at him suspiciously while Pepe seemed to be enjoying his ice-cream too much. And he said he didn't want it at first.

 _'We can meet at 6 at the main entrance. How's that sound? Then I'll take u somewhere nice.'_ It's almost four already and Xabi thought two hours should be enough for Steven to finish whatever he's doing.

_'Actually I don't have anything to do right now. If u want, we can meet now and go wherever u'd like to take me. ;)'_

Now? Somehow Xabi had never actually prepared for this, all of these. Everything happened so fast, accidentally he found Steven's wallet, they met and all the feelings he had three years ago that he thought was already long dead came back to life and now they would go out together again, like right now. Everything that happened during the past three hours was a bit too much until he felt dizzy.

"Xabi, are you okay?" Luis asked uncertainly as he suspected something wasn't right. Pepe looked up from his ice-cream, wondering what's going on, at last.

"Yeah, yeah," Xabi answered, staring at his phone. "Actually, I think I have to go now."

"What?" Luis was confused.

"I have some errands to do." He waved his phone and Luis narrowed his eyes like he didn't buy it but didn't say anything.

"Okay."

"See you then." Pepe waved his hand, didn't suspect anything.

"See you." He got up. As he walked out of the ice-cream shop, the Basque texted the Scouser, something fluttered in his stomach and it felt like a kaleidoscope of butterflies.

_'Deal. Main entrance. Now.'_

***

That night after they'd arrived back at Robin's house in the suburbs of Amsterdam, Cesc dragged the Dutch into their room and kissed him.

Robin was stunned to the spot and it took him some time to take in the reality and react. Grabbing Cesc's shoulders, he pushed him until he's against the wall, all the time didn't break the kiss. The Spaniard gasped and since his lips were still sealed by the Dutch's, he only got in Robin's air and the Dutch choke but they still didn't let go of each other. Robin pressed his lips against Cesc's harder like he wanted to grind the other boy into bits and pieces. The Dutch's hands touched Cesc's waist through his shirt then up to his chest and neck. There's a point when the Spaniard was lack of oxygen and almost choked so he released Robin's lips and gasped, but the Dutch didn't let him go long before crushing their lips together again, this time he also caught the hem of Cesc's shirt and pulled it off. The Spaniard did the same with Robin's then his hands slid down to the Dutch's jeans, they caught the button before he glanced up at Robin like asking for permission but at the same time daring him to stop it.

Standing there topless, the Dutch panted in anticipation. Cesc averted his eyes back to the jeans to unbutton and unzip the pants with the smallest movements required. Robin caught his waistband and took over what Cesc had started then hauled them off his feet until he's left with only boxers.

The room was dark and the streetlights that came in through the window glazed Robin’s almost naked body, shadows casted on his tanned skin where the panels barred the light. Cesc's breath caught, he's so beautiful and the Spaniard didn't know why he kept thinking about Gerard when he had this sexy Dutch to himself. Cesc's mind swam in darkness and intoxication as his fingers trailed up Robin's abs. The Dutch's breath caught in his throat but the Catalan's fingers kept trailing up his chest over his hard nipple to his neck, jaw, then lingered over his bottom lip. Robin slipped his tongue out to lick the index finger then caught it with his teeth.

"Cesc," Robin whispered as he caught the Spaniard's hand with his own. Cesc's heart raced fast, if he's going to do this at all, he's going to do it tonight. There's no more perfect timing than this, they're in Robin's hometown in Christmas holidays and he's drunk - not in love, not yet, he's not gonna go that far already, but he's drunk on weeds and too much magic mushroom brownies. And when he kissed Robin again, the Dutch's lips tasted like another kind of recreational substances and he took them like he couldn't live without them, like he needed them more than anything in this life, like they’re going to consume him rather than the other way around.

When Robin eventually entered him that night, Cesc felt like his body was whole but his soul was torn apart, it's the same as feeling high while taking drugs but having no memories of it when he’s sober.

It's ephemeral, artificial. But he didn't even need to come down, toking was legal in Amsterdam, just like sleeping with Robin van Persie.

And if he's ever sober, he could take it over and over again.

***

"Fernando, how have you been darling?! We've missed you!" was what his mom greeted him when he stepped into the house the next evening. His parents were back from Egypt since this afternoon and to be honest, Fernando had never felt least eager to see them like at the moment. The Spaniard had his luggage with all his stuff for a-month living at the Aggers' in tow, he’d got back from school early to get it before Agger would arrive and that meant he ditched the band rehearsal the Dane told him to go.

This time the point wasn't because he didn't want to play what Agger told him to play, though that point still played an important factor, he ditched the session today because he couldn't stand the fact that from now on he could spend time with Agger only when they had the rehearsal and he'd never have the Dane to himself at nights, not anymore.

The thought killed him harder especially after what happened last night, and the Spaniard had the grace to blush when he thought about it. The sex was spontaneous because their last night together was the breaking point of all the unresolved sexual tension accumulating during the month they had lived together. But the night was too short and dawn broke too soon and when Fernando woke up with Agger's arm around him in bed, he knew it's over.

They didn't talk about what happened and the Dane acted as normal as possible except for the stealing glances when he thought no one saw him and subtle touches here and there. Scathing remarks also seemed to be lacking and during the last breakfast of Fernando's one-month stay, they had the most civilized conversation ever. And the Spaniard had tried not to but he still kept blushing, he had no idea how to act in this kind of awkward morning-after situation especially when Agger kept looking at him like he's a hot piece of meat like THAT. Stephanie looked across the table from Fernando to her brother curiously, obviously noticing that something was amiss. Afterwards, when she got up and said goodbye to everyone before leaving for school, she smirked like she just discovered the deepest secret of the universe without even asking.

The only time they'd spent alone that day was during going to school, which they're silent most of the time except for the two times when the Dane asked whether he's okay and told him to come to the rehearsal. Of course Fernando was sore but he's strong enough to not let it show and act like normal. Agger's quietness got on his nerves somehow, the Spaniard knew the morning-after was always an awkward situation and even the Dane could be inarticulate but with his usual biting persona, Fernando just found this form of Agger really off. More than that, he just felt the Dane could have said something after what had happened, anything to reassure him that it wasn't just a dream and he wasn't the only one who's moved by it, pun intended. But Agger wasn't the kind of person who would say anything like that, never would, he should have known.

Fernando didn't like the idea of rehearsal today so he came home early. He chatted with his parents about the going-on of everything as well as how Egypt was. He helped his mom prepare dinner and it's the first time in a month that he had dinner with his own family. It seemed odd, somehow. Afterwards, he helped with the dishwashing and got up to his room where he hadn't slept in for months that it looked unfamiliar. He took the guitar out and strummed the songs he'd learnt when he's with Agger, he's playing 'Spanish Guitar' when someone knocked on his bedroom’s door.

He got up and got the door, it's his dad. "Your friend's down there," his dad told him. Fernando raised his brow.

"Who?"

"Dan Agger." He turned away. "Maybe you forget something?"

Fernando's heart beat fast, he didn't know whether he really forgot something but he didn't care. The fact that Agger's here made him nervous enough. He ditched the practice session because he didn't want to see the Dane for only a couple of hours and then was deprived of him again and the fact that they wouldn't spend the night together would break him inside.

The Spaniard braced himself when he walked along the hallway then down the stairs. Agger's standing in the living room, chatting with his mom, being his charming self like he'd never been to Fernando before. He looked up as the Spaniard approached and the smile he intended to send to his mother was given to Fernando as well. "Hey," and he grinned even wider.

"Thank you for taking care of him again, Daniel. I'll drop by your mom this Sunday to thank her in person and we might go shopping because we'll need more fresh foods in the house now," his mom giggled and Fernando wondered had Agger said something about all the canned foods he discovered in the kitchen that time.

"Sounds like fun." The Dane winked.

"I'll leave you with him then." Then his mom turned to leave the room, ruffling Fernando's blond hair as she passed him by. When there's nothing hindering the Dane from him anymore, he saw that Agger had something in his hand.

"Your mom gave this to me. Souvenir from Egypt." He juggled a beautiful miniature grey-stone pyramid in one hand. The Spaniard kept his eyes on it like in wonder just because he didn't want to look Agger in the eyes. "You stood me up," suddenly the Dane stated a fact. Fernando snapped his eyes back to him.

"What?"

"You didn't go to practice. I want to know why." He didn't come closer to him like the Spaniard feared but instead turning around and shambling across the room, looking at this and that.

"I wanted to see my parents." It's not the whole truth neither it's all lies. Agger walked until he reached the piano, his fingers grazed its lid and Fernando's mind was brought back to that night under the moonlight when he played Claire de Lune.

"Tomorrow you have to come then." The Dane's eyes were still on the piano. The Spaniard swallowed, so that's why he came then. Not because Agger missed him like he did, not even because Fernando forgot something in his room, but because he wanted the Spaniard to do what he ordered him to do, to be his good boy. Fernando bit his lower lip, feeling something churn in his gut, something in the mixture of hurt and disappointment. How could he think last night was special? It's just horny sex between two randy teenage boys, nothing could have come of it neither it came of anything.

"Hey," Agger turned and walked towards him. "What's wrong?" He reached Fernando and his fingers brushed bangs off that freckly forehead, genuine warmth in his brown eyes made the Spaniard shiver.

"Nothing," he murmured and averted his eyes to look at the Dane's feet.

"I guess you might want to unpack your bag in the comfortable bedroom of yours tonight." Agger laughed though it sounded a bit dryly. "And talk to your mom and dad, too, I suppose. So I'll see you tomorrow? I'll pick you up then." With Agger, it's never a question, just a statement of what he thought and Fernando's opinion always didn't matter. Mostly it would irritate him but sometimes, somehow, like right now, it's a relief and it made him smile. The Spaniard looked up again.

"Okay."

The Dane smiled as they gazed into each other's eyes, then he leaned in and kissed Fernando. The Spaniard stiffened in unanticipation but the kiss was soft and romantic and a bit sexy but Agger didn't push or anything. When he released him finally, Fernando found his heart beating like dancing tango and he decided he hated it.

"Good night, babe," Agger said.

***

Steven was waiting by the mall exit when Xabi arrived. His heart drummed nervously in his chest again as he cautiously approached the British. Steven looked up from his phone and grinned brightly at him and it made his heart skip a beat.

"Hey," the Scouser greeted, about to clap on his shoulder but decided against it so they stood there a bit awkwardly.

"Hey." The Basque shifted on his feet.

"What's you plan?" Steven cocked his head, mischief sparkling in his eyes and Xabi immediately thought back to the good old days when they broke the rules and ditched the camp ground.

"Have you had a tour of Madrid yet?" Xabi quirked his brow questioningly.

"You'll be my guide then?" Steven smiled. "Where first?"

"We can start walking from Banco de España station then up along Gran Vía and then Puerta del Sol. We can have dinner there, if you want, that is."

"Sounds fine to me." The Scouser winked. "Lead the way, Xabi."

They chatted all the way while walking to the nearest station and on the subway. Steven talked about his life as an exchange student. He lived not far from Colegio de Fomento el Prado, the school he attended, which excited Xabi because it's also not so far away from his school and his house. He's a bit disappointed that they didn't study at the same school. He recalled vaguely there's also an English exchange student in their year but he came since the start of the term, not after the year had already started for almost three months like this. He wondered whether Steven could change school to Sagrado Corazon since he just started attending so it should be no problem. But to ask that aloud seemed too clingy, they'd just met after three years after all. Xabi quickly dismissed the idea, feeling embarrassed with himself.

Then Steven talked about his life in Liverpool and Xabi suddenly missed everything there. He could still smell the summer of England, felt the sun on his skin. Though Spain possessed a higher quality of sunlight when summer came, for him sunlight in England had the unique intensity that was nothing like the Spanish sun, it's not hot but warm, not fiercely scorching but snugging around his skin like an invisible silk. Suddenly Xabi missed it all, he missed it more than he cared to admit after these three years, the fragrance of Oriental Lily and Garden Phlox, the songs of the Chaffinches, the serene summer atmosphere so in contrast with the bustling vivid one in Spain.

The Scouser didn't talk about his love life and Xabi didn't dare to ask. He didn't ask about Xabi's either and the Basque noticed that he seemed to avoid the topic, its implication made the Spaniard's heart constrict in his chest.

"I suppose you want to pursue your education in physics field?" Steven asked.

"Yes, I'd applied to several universities that are famous for physics study," he looked at Steven. "How about you? What are you going to pursue? Transferred student in your last year of secondary school, huh? Do you plan to further study in Spain or something?" He joked but Steven's eyes told him otherwise.

"That's one of my options, yeah."

The Basque's heart beat fast, hope bubbled in his chest. Did he really mean that? If that's true then they'd have years ahead of them that they could spend together. The prospect of studying at different universities didn't sound as bad as living in different countries, Xabi's sure he could handle that, if the Scouser still wanted this to go on, that is.

And Xabi wanted this, he knew he wanted it, whatever it was, the second Steven got into his life the second time.

"What do you plan to study?"

"Physics, maybe." He shrugged.

"Are you that good at physics?" The Spaniard raised his brow, he still remembered the conversation they had on the last days of that summer that Steven wasn't good at any particular field of sciences, he didn't take special interest in any of them at the time. Steven pouted.

"You've wounded me, Xabi Alonso."

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that. I mean-"

"I know what you mean, sunshine." He winked. "One could make progresses in one’s intellectual pursuit. I know I would never be as good as you, but I'm better now somehow, I wish." The Basque laughed.

"Okay, I'm not going to test your level of knowledge. I believe you then." His mind brought forth the thought of Mr. Anonymous and he quickly brushed it away. He didn't feel like playing puzzles now, it's not the kind of things he'd do with Steven.

"Yes, I also don't think one of the first things we should learn about each other after three years is how educated we are, thinking that we'd already done that the last time." He laughed and the Spaniard laughed along with him. The recorded lady-voice announced the next station.

"That's our stop." Xabi walked to the door, caught a handle and waited for the train to stop.

They disembarked and the chat continued, mostly Steven talked. Sometimes he tried to say something in Spanish which Xabi admitted was quite alright but eventually they fell into the previous habit of conversing in English. The Spaniard kept in mind that he'd slowly adjust that habit and made the Scouser speak Spanish more often than not in the future. They walked along Calle de Alcalá and then Gran Vía, or the Spanish Broadway as people called it, encompassing by the grandeur of the most ornate and upscale architectures in Spain's capital city. The sun was setting and Madrid in winter was as cold as any other places in England, he supposed, since he'd never been in England in winter. Though he'd like that, too, he'd like to feel England in every season, to experience Liverpool in both lights and shadows, to know Steven Gerrard in every way...

When the twilight sun fully surrendered the sky to moon and stars, they were quite hungry. The weather was freezing and their breaths condensed as the air hit the coldness. The Spaniard's hands were deep in his pockets, he jumped from one foot to another, desperate to get into any warm places.

"There's a restaurant on that street, I couldn't remember the name but there're always a lot of people every time I passed by. We can check that one out, if you want." It's the only restaurant he could think of that didn't seem too pricey around here, his brain was frozen and he didn't want to stroll aimlessly any longer. Now was too cold for that.

"Anything you want," the Scouser replied. He gave the Basque his hand. "Let's go then?"

Xabi looked at that hand and hesitated for a second before reaching out and grabbing it. They didn't have gloves and even though Steven's hand was as cold as ice, he felt warmer when their skin touched, so he held onto it for dear life.

As they walked along a narrow shadowed alley to the restaurant the Spaniard suggested, Xabi realized he'd never felt like this since the day he flew out of England.

***

When David arrived at Museo Reina Sofia, it's a quarter past three. He'd already texted Iker that he'd arrive a bit late and he quickly fished his mobile out again to announce his arrival.

_'I'm here. Where r u?'_

Half a minute passed and Iker answered. _'Come 2 the 2nd fl. Rm 206.06'_

David quirked his brow but followed the path there anyway. It had taken more than five minutes before he arrived. The room was all white and large and there were quite a lot of people there that it took the British a full minute to locate Iker.

Then he saw him, David smiled and walked over to the Spaniard who's standing in front of a large black and white painting. "Hey, babe," the English boy greeted by pecking on the Spaniard's cheek. Iker jolted and turned around.

"Hey." His voice seemed a bit dull, not as jolly as usual but David dismissed it. Maybe because he'd been looking at a depressive painting for too long, sometimes arts affected Iker's mood like that.

"What's up? You wanted to see me?" David grinned his usual charming grin, his eyes sparkled merrily but he noticed that Iker only simpered and his eyes were dim.

There's something not quite right here but David couldn't put his finger on. "Iker, what's wrong?"

The Spaniard turned back to the painting and the British felt his heart drum against his ribcage. "Do you know what this painting is, David?" Iker asked.

David looked at the painting, in the picture he saw a bull, a horse, a lot of screaming people, hands and legs everywhere, burning houses? And were the people dying or something? "A war story?" He tried.

Iker nodded. "Yes. The piece name is 'Geurnica'. Picasso painted it during the Spanish Civil War as a condemnation of the bombing of the city of the same name in the Basque Country, and as an icon of the worldwide anti-war sentiment and the fight for freedom." David looked at the painting and got it a bit though he didn't actually know much about Spanish Civil War, he's not a fan of history anyway.

"How about the bull, and the horse? Are they symbols for something?"

"The painting shows suffering people, animals and buildings affected by violence of the war alike." Iker crossed his arms over his chest. "Picasso said that painting was a blind man's profession. He paints not what he sees but what he feels, what he tells himself about what he has seen. Art is not the truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth." The Spaniard turned around and David was frozen to the spot. Iker's eyes were full of tears. "And I've been living a lie, Dave. I might have been fooling myself that the painting I've been in was perfectly beautiful and no trouble could happen in paradise. I've been lying to myself that everything would be fine as long as you're happy. I couldn't care less about my own needs. But that couldn't be true, could it?" He took in a deep breath. "David, I think we should stop this now."

The English boy felt like someone had hit his head with a club. "What did you say?" His voice was raspy.

"I can't do this, Dave," the Spaniard said, eyes bearing into the painting.

"Then don't do it," David whispered, but Iker heard anyway.

"I mean, I can't keep being your friend with benefits, or whatever!" His hands gestured in the air like to indicate that he didn't care what the fuck it's called. "You have Victoria as your girlfriend now, you need to be faithful to her, David. That's the rule of relationship!"

The Londoner felt like a seat would be nice right now. He looked around and found an empty bench not far away so he caught the Spaniard's hand and walked there. Iker tensed but let him hold his hand nonetheless. When they finally seated, David was silent for a minute and Iker simply waited because it's not his cue to talk.

"Why?" Finally David asked. "Why doing this now? You seemed fine before."

"No, I've never been fine, Dave.” Iker took in a deep breath. “It might seem like it but it's not. I've told you I've been living a lie, I've been lying to myself, lying to you. We should've never done this from the start, I should've known better that there would be no happy ending for this shit."

David's stunned. "'This shit'?! You called what we have 'this shit'?! Iker, don't you dare tell me you weren't happy just a bit when we're together!" He’s angry now, of course.

The Spaniard was shaking, barely, but the British noticed. "Of course I'm happy, but it'd never be enough. It's addictive, it's consuming me. I'd keep on wanting more of it, more of you. Eventually I'd want all of you, and you couldn't give me that, Dave."

The Londoner stared at him. "We could manage that, you know? If you want more time with me, we might spend nights together more often-"

"David, for Christ’s sake! Listen to what you're saying!" Iker raised his voice and people turned to look at them. He swallowed and lowered the volume. "You can't keep on doing that. All of this needs to be stopped. It's fucking wrong, Dave! Where have all your scruples gone? Think about what we've done, think about Victoria!"

"Don't you drag Victoria into this, this is all about us!"

Iker gaped incredulously. "What?!" He hissed. "Christ, David. This is all about Victoria!" If she didn't exist, we'd never have this conversation, would we?

The Londoner put his hand on his mouth. "What would I do without you?" He asked feebly. "You're the only one that could keep me sane, Iker, your presence calms me. Without you I might even go crazy." He's using this tactic again, it's getting old.

"You seem to be doing fine lately, David," he said. "And I used to think that I could do it before, I used to think that it...- this - is all about giving and not taking. But I can't David, I can't do this anymore."

"Why?"

"Because you're only taking and not giving. You're being selfish, Dave. And this won't work."

The English boy was silent, he needed no more clarification on that part and Iker wondered he did know what he'd been doing all along.

They sat in silence for a while, David staring at the painting in front of him like he found it fascinating all of a sudden. When he thought Iker had nothing left to say, Iker spoke up, "I guess this is it."

David wanted to say, 'no, this isn't it. What do you think you're doing?!' but he didn't have enough reasons to beg the Spaniard to stay.

Or actually he had? But it's not reason like logical reason, this one was emotional...

Something dawned on him and David stared deeper into the painting, feeling like just having been struck by a lightning. This was all a lie, wasn't it? He felt Iker stand up beside him. His mien felt forced and the British knew the Spaniard was on the verge of breaking down like him but he'd never let David see that, he'd never let David see his weaknesses especially in a time like this.

"I'll see you on Monday then," the Spaniard's voice was hoarse and the English boy wanted to reach out and grab him and beg him not to go, to hold him close and tell him everything between them would be okay, that he...he.... But David was still shocked with himself he couldn't move. Iker lingered only for a couple of seconds more and when he realized the British wasn't going to say anything, he whispered, "goodbye, David." Then he turned around and walked away.

The English boy sat there alone still staring at the painting, Iker's words ran through his mind, this is all a lie, we've been living a lie, David. Art is not the truth, it's a blind man's profession. The artist paints not what he sees but what he feels. What you see in the picture is not true, but what it makes you feel, that is true. Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth.

Fuck, how could he be so blind?

The British ran a hand over his face, feeling dizzy. David knew why they couldn't keep doing this, he knew it now. He knew it when he looked into the painting in front of him, not just at the painting but into it, deep down, until he could see through all the layers of false perception and discover the grain of truth behind. And when it lay bare in front of him, he didn't understand how he could be so blind all this time. It's so obvious, isn't it? Why hasn't he realized before?

That his best friend was in love with him...


	17. Chapter 17

It's like the world kept spinning but leaving him on the spot, only he that wasn't affected by space and time.

He didn't know what day it was or how long he'd been staying here. What he did everyday though, was going out with Robin, toking weeds or eating magic mushrooms then getting lost in the world of whirling rainbows. They sat by the canal and laughed at the wavy water. They went into Sexmuseum, kissed the giant dick, took many pictures with the various sizes of the genitals and giggled like mad. He didn't know about Robin but he's all-time high and when he thought he's about to sober up soon, he took in more recreational drugs and was retrieved back up in the air again.

When the sun set, they got back to Robin's house and fucked. Robin would kiss him, touch him, suck him off and devour him. And every night after they're exhausted, Cesc fell asleep in Robin's arms still drunk, though some nights he wondered whether it could be by love as much as by drugs. Nevertheless, he'd never wanted to wake up, knowing that by then he'd be sober, which meant he could think more clearly and would judge his own doing, though so far he'd never regretted it, no.

On Christmas Eve, they stayed at home, smoking weeds and playing any ridiculous games they could think of.

"I got Full House." The Dutch laid the five cards he held on the floor in front of him. Cesc snarled and threw his on the floor frustratingly.

"Why you always have the best cards?!" He ground out. Robin had three Queens and two Twos while he got two Tens, a Seven, a Three and an Ace, no beneficial formation at all, and it'd been like this three games in a row, what the hell?!

The Spaniard took off his t-shirt, it's the only top he had left now and he suddenly felt the chill on his bare skin though the room was moderately warm. Though he didn't have that much intelligence right now given that they constantly smoked weeds, its unique giddy smell permeating the room, Cesc realized if he lost the next game, he'd have to take off his jeans and have only his briefs left. He also realized that if that happened, they wouldn't be playing stripped poker anymore but would end up in Robin's bed, having sex, yet again.

"I just need only one more round, actually." The Dutch picked up the joint he’d put on the ashtray on the floor and toke deeply before gathering all the cards and shuffling them. He grinned at the Catalan and his overconfidence made Cesc want to strangle him.

They played another game, in his hand he got a King, a Jack, a Nine, a Five and a Two. What the heck?!

He could do Straight, okay, but that's not happening easily. They had three turns each to discard and draw new cards, he had to decide which three he wanted out of his hand. Two was the least expedient variable compared with others so he traded it for another card when his turn arrived.

The new card turned up to be Queen.

Cesc's eyes sparkled, now this looked more like it. It could be Straight, if he just had the luck, of course. He just had to trade Five for Ten, and it had to definitely be a Ten, of whatever suit he didn't care. It's like one in a million chances. No, more like four in fifty-two chances, but whatever. And he had another turn to change it anyway if he didn't get the card he wanted. Holding his breath, Cesc put down Five of Hearts and drew a new card, squeezing his eyes shut while doing so just for the sake of making himself more excited, he heard Robin chuckle good-humoredly.

The Spaniard opened an eye up, the other still squeezed shut when he peeked at the card.

It's Two of Spades. Christ, he just got rid of one and another came. Cesc grunted and waited while Robin dealt his card. When his turn arrived again, Cesc held his breath and threw Two on the floor face-up, drew a new card and also threw it face-up in front of him for both Robin and him to see.

It's Seven of Clubs.

"For fuck's sake!" Cesc flung the rest of his hand on the floor and Robin laughed. He laid down his cards for Cesc to see, it's not a that-great hand but he had a pair of Queens which was still higher than Cesc's nothing, so he won anyway.

"Your jeans." The Dutch wiggled his eyebrows.

The Catalan snarled but unreluctantly wriggled out of his jeans. Robin eyed him appreciatively from head to toes, no, to crotch, period. He toke the joint and scooted closer to Cesc to hand it to him.

  
Taking it in his hand, the Spaniard dragged in a huge breath when Robin dropped his head to nuzzle up against his neck, he kissed the skin there like he cherished it. "Should we play another game?" He asked as dragging his lips down to the Spaniard's clavicle. "Or should I just take off my clothes voluntarily since you would never beat me anyway?" His fingertips trailed down Cesc's chest, via his nipple that got hardened instantly. His breath hitched but he tried to cover it though with this closeness Robin could still feel rather than see it from his boyfriend's chest. The Dutch smirked and kept on moving his hand downward to Cesc's belly, the Catalan flinched when Robin's hand arrived at his groin and, slowly and steadily, massaged it into wakefulness. Cesc tried not to cringe and could still hold his breath as bending his head down in search of Robin's lips.

The Dutch looked up as he felt the movement and was met by the Spaniard's lips on his. Cesc poured all that he had taken in the cave of Robin's mouth, the taste of it: marijuana and Cesc, made him feel intoxicated. So he took it as a _'no, we shouldn't play another game,'_ and _'yes, you should just take all your clothes off now'_. And he would do that, but after he’d slipped his hand into Cesc's underwear, of course.

***

Sometimes he felt like it's destiny that brought them back together again when they weren't supposed to even meet again in this life, living in different countries and all.

Xabi couldn't get him out of his head, neither after they'd parted ways and promised to text or call later, nor after he'd arrived home, taken a shower and got into bed. It took him longer than usual to fall asleep. In his dream, Steven was there, they're back in England again and were lying on the green grass with eternal sunshine on their faces. He heard the Chaffinches and realized they must be in Steven's house’s backyard. They didn't talk but when Steven leaned over to kiss him on the lips, Xabi knew everything they shared was more than words could say.

When he woke up the next morning, Steven was the first thing on his mind. It's weird when yesterday you didn't spare a split second thought of someone but the next day he'd suddenly taken all the spaces in your brain. It's creepy, actually. He thought of asking Steven whether he's free to meet up today but it sounded too clingy and that's creepy, too.

The first message he received definitely wasn't from Steven.

_'A radioactive nuclide emits an α-particle and two β-particles. Compared with the original nuclide, what will the resulting nuclide be?'_

But Xabi was in no mood to reply to the text, and he didn't know whether he'd have the mood again ever. He read the question again and got an answer in mind but didn't type back. He put the phone down and thought of Steven again.

The second text also wasn't from Steven, and Xabi realized as he saw it that he'd forgotten about him in the last 24 hours.

Fuck.

 _'How's the movie yesterday?'_ Mikel asked. And this one, this one Xabi couldn't ignore. Mikel was his boyfriend after all and he had the right to converse with Xabi, and it's Xabi's duty to reply him.

The Basque was surprised by his thought.

He'd never felt like it's his duty before, not until now. Though it's not new to him that he didn't have as much feelings for Mikel as the other seemed to have for him, to think that everything he had to do to Mikel was a duty seemed so forced and there's something terribly wrong with it. The fact that he'd totally forgotten about Mikel yesterday was horrible enough and though he felt thoroughly guilty, he still couldn't get Steven out of his head.

 _'It's nice,'_ Xabi replied, though he didn't actually know what the movie was about because he simply didn't pay attention to. His hand which was holding his phone shook as he waited for the other boy's response, his eyes had lost their focuses because his mind was hazed.

 _'Great. What's ur plan today?'_ Mikel asked. Xabi took in a deep breath.

 _'I don't particularly know. Reading, I guess.'_ He's lying and he knew it because he had no mood to read anything whatsoever today.

_'Care if I join? ;)'_

Xabi took in a deep breath, again. He cared, yes, he thought he needed some time alone.

_'I need 2 concentrate. Maybe next time, then.'_

_'Okay, then. U had lunch yet?'_

_'Yes.'_

Mikel asked a few more questions and Xabi answered while something unpleasant churned in his gut. But he didn't answer Mr. X, and Mr. X didn't nag him further. Sunday had passed by so slowly and unproductively for Xabi. Steven's text had never come.

  
Monday came and Mikel picked him up early in the morning and dragged him to have breakfast at his house together before leaving for school. Mr. Anonymous didn't text him again and Xabi kept glancing at his phone and drumming his finger nervously like he's practically waiting for something to pop up off it, not from Mr. X of course. Lunch also passed by with Mikel, Pepe and Luis but Xabi had lost his focus long time ago. It's in the afternoon that a message came.

_'Hey, what r u doing this evening?'_

Xabi's heart leapt in his chest. The message was from Steven. His hands shook anxiously while he typed back. Fuck, he needed to get a grip. What the fuck is wrong with him anyway?

_'Nothing.'_

He waited a few more minutes before the reply came. _'Tapas?'_

Xabi didn't even hesitate. _'Where?'_

_'I'll pick u up at ur school?'_

No, he can't do that! A surge of guilty shot straight from his brain to his extremities. _'No, I'll pick u up at ur school. I'm the host here.'_

_'Fine then. C u around 4.30?'_

_'K.'_ Xabi's heart leapt in his throat as he hit send. He'd need an excuse to lie to Mikel and if necessary, his friends. What should he tell them this time?

***

The first time David Beckham met Iker Casillas, his world somersaulted like he’s in a water-walking ball.

David didn't know what that feeling was, and he'd never found out, actually he'd already forgotten about it. It seemed like a long time ago since they first met: the first year of their secondary school.

Just moving to Madrid with his family, David literally knew nothing about Spanish: neither the language nor the people. When he followed a teacher into a classroom and she said something in Spanish, presumably introducing him, he couldn't understand a word except for his name. Other students looked at him, some oddly, some excitingly, and gossiped. The teacher pointed to a vacant desk and David assumed she meant for him to sit there, so he walked over. David had never been a shy type nor he's overconfident so he just strode leisurely to the empty seat. It wasn't until the homeroom ended that the boy sitting right in front of him turned around.

"Iker Casillas, mucho gusto," the boy said in Spanish and David didn't understand, of course. But the moment their eyes met, David's world somersaulted like a water-walking ball.

Iker was always with Álvaro Arbeloa, Francisco Pavón, and Iván Helguera at the time, and David tagged them along everywhere. He couldn't speak Spanish at first but it didn't seem to be a hindrance that much. He's closest to Iker and since then, since he didn't have any friends in Madrid, they were joined at the hip. He followed Iker to the pitch after class and they played football with other Spaniards. David was really good at it so nobody really cared that he couldn't say a word. He also followed Iker to art museums where the Spaniard loved to spend his time in thought and also around the town because he had nowhere else to go. Since the English boy understood Spanish less than ten words, they used body language a lot. And it's more than an average frequency that Iker and David touched one another on the wrists, elbows, arms, shoulders, back, and waist.

Soon enough, Iker found that David had a ticklish spot. At first, he wanted to ruffle the Londoner's hair as a gesture of appreciation since he'd just scored a majestic goal, but David swiftly dodged him. It didn't bother Iker at first but after a couple of times, he got suspicious. And Iker knew it, just because, he knew David had a ticklish spot there so the next time he got near him, Iker jumped to piggy-ride him. David didn't protest at first, not until the Spaniard leaned down to nuzzle up against the side of his head. The British gasped and tried to dodge the attack but couldn't because right now Iker was practically his additional organ. Iker smirked triumphantly, so it's the ears. He locked arms around David's shoulders tighter before dragging his upper teeth along the Londoner's ear. It's the first time Iker heard David squeak like a girl.

It didn't take long before David made a comeback and he found out, quite by surprise, that Iker had the same ticklish spot as he had, on his ears. So the war started. It took quite a long time before David could properly converse in Spanish and before they knew it, physical intimacy was a common thing in their friendship. Every time they're near: at school, on the pitch, or even in town, they'd joke around: push and pull, grab and grope, try to eat each other's ears, or wrestle one another to the ground.

But those were the early days, eventually they grew out of it. Though there were still touches and tickles here and there, there weren't as much as when they're young dorky teenagers. David didn't need that much body language nowadays after all, he could speak fluent Spanish and he had more physical intimacy than he wanted from girls he dated. Though Iker missed the old days sometimes, he'd never been jealous of all the girls who hogged David's attention and all the touches that used to belong to him. No, he'd never thought of David as more than his best friend. All the touches they shared were necessary means required in their communication when there's no other language available, they had never intended to mean anything more than that.

It took quite a time before David's world slowly turned upright though it had never actually faded away: the feeling that his world had somersaulted like a water-walking ball at first sight that he met Iker. He might have already forgotten about it but the fact remained, deep down inside him, the feeling that his world always tilted a bit and would never be right again.

***

"Aww, Blondie's here."

Fernando recognized Martin's voice but didn't look up as he walked over to put his stuff in the corner of the room. He saw that he's the last one arrived but he’d never wanted to make a good impression anyway. Agger approached him immediately.

"Here." He handed the Spaniard his Gibson Les Paul. Fernando took it without protest.

"Are you ready for tonight, beauty?" Nicklas played the drum enthusiastically. Fernando glanced up this time after plugging in his guitar and was testing the sound.

"What's up tonight, Nick?" He asked, eyes on his guitar strings.

"We will rock you tonight!" He drummed louder. The blonde scrunched up his nose, he'd been rocked by these rowdy boys almost every evening and he didn't have the time of his life.

"What makes tonight different from others?" He strummed the guitar, it sounded fine.

"Because you're here so Danny boy won't be moody and kept playing the wrong notes like yesterday?" Nicklas quirked his brow annoyingly and Fernando had the grace to blush. Was Agger really like that yesterday? He glanced at the Dane but Agger pretended he didn't hear the remark, he’s tuning his guitar in silence.

They practiced a new song this time, _'Maybe I'm Amazed'_ by Paul McCartney.

_'Baby, I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time,_   
_And maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you.'_

Simon sang while Fernando struggled with the chord. This one was as difficult as Foo Fighter's _'The Pretender'_. Damn, why does he have to do this? He wished he's sitting in front of a piano right now, he promised he would practice Johannes Brahms' _'Hungarian Dance No.5'_ he'd never mastered. It would be much easier than this.

_'Maybe I'm amazed at the way you pulled me out of time,_   
_You hung me on the line._   
_Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you._

_'Baby, I'm a man, maybe I'm a lonely man_   
_Who's in the middle of something_   
_That he doesn't really understand._

_'Baby, I'm a man,_   
_And maybe you're the only woman who could ever help me._   
_Baby, won't you help me to understand?_   
_Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh.'_

They practiced the song into the night. When Martin called it a day, Fernando handed back the electric guitar to Agger. "I can't do this," he said. The song was great, though, but it just wasn't his cup of tea, all of these farces weren't. He just couldn't do it.

The Dane looked up at him. "You did great actually."

Really? He might, but he didn't like it still. The blonde was about to protest but Agger said, "Can we talk on the way back home? Let's pack first."

On the way back home it was, Agger walked him. And like the Dane could read his mind, when Fernando was about to start the topic, which was when they arrived at the bus stop, Agger said, "The music festival before the Easter holiday, our band will perform on stage."

Fernando snapped his head around. Right, he'd almost forgotten about that with everything that's going on right now. Their school had a music festival day just before the Easter holiday and it's a good opportunity for amateur music artists of any kind to show the whole school what they'd got on stage. Fernando also performed last year because the piano teacher asked him to. He didn't want to do it at first since he's a kind of shy teenager who wanted no attention but then his teacher kind of beg and he didn't have the heart to say no. So it's a yes. He did Beethoven's _'Fur Elise'_ and Mozart's _'Sonata in C Major K545'_ , besides him there's only another amateur pianist performing, Sergio Canales, who did Dvorak's _'Humoresque No.7'_ and Chopin's _'Grande Valse Brillante'_. Well, Canales was definitely better than him and he mightn't have to perform this year but still...

Other band mates might know this already, of course they had to, that's why they’d been practicing so hard. He couldn't remember whether last year they also performed, he's too caught up in his own rehearsal and had never been much into rock bands, even at school level. He felt like an idiot right now. Agger needed him because he had to use him on the music festival day. They didn't want to lose him now otherwise who's going to play Meireles' part? He'd never meant more than a substitute, that's why Agger was so good to him. Fernando felt used. And though the bus was warm and Agger was sitting beside him, he felt so cold.

"You're going to help me, aren't you?" The Dane brushed Fernando's strayed locks off his freckly forehead and the words just justified his point further. The Spaniard looked desperately into Agger's eyes and as the Dane glanced around to see that no one's looking at them before leaning in to press their lips together, he couldn't remember that he'd ever felt so fooled.

***

It took Xabi almost 15 minutes by bus to Fomento el Prado then he'd been standing under a chestnuts tree near the school gate awkwardly. He told Mikel that he had to run an errand with his mom this evening, an absolute lie. He fidgeted with the phone in his hand, Steven hadn't called yet nor did Xabi contact him. The time was 16.25 and the Basque intended to wait until the time they arranged before making any moves. He wasn't disappointed when the Scouser walked out the gate looking for him when it’s time. Their eyes met and Steven smiled brightly.

Xabi's heart leapt in his chest fucking yet again.

He'd never felt like this when he met Mikel, ever.

"Hey," Steven greeted as he approached the Spaniard, eyes twinkled. "Take long to come here?"

"Fifteen minutes," Xabi said. "What do you want to eat?"

"I don't know yet." The British put his arm around Xabi's shoulder. "You've been around here often?"

"No, why would I be around here?" The Basque quirked his brow.

"I don't know. To admire the neighborhood?" Steven smirked. "Whatever, there's a nice plaza there, if you want to check out a few tapas bars."

They strolled unhurriedly, chatting about the houses along the streets, the trees above their heads, the crisp weather of winter. Steven had a fluffy scarf around his neck but Xabi didn't.

"Where's that fucking plaza?" The Basque asked, since they'd been walking for quite a time now.

Steven pointed to somewhere. "Well, it's there, actually. Are you cold?" He caught his scarf and was about to take it off for Xabi.

"Not really. But you said it's just there, yet we've been walking for more than half an hour already."

"I'll tell you the truth. It's just there, actually, very near. I've been leading you in a circle." His smile was mischievous and though Xabi weren't actually angry, he felt like strangling him mostly in annoyance.

"Seriously, Stevie," he groaned. The English boy chuckled.

"I just want to spend as much time as I could with you." He winked then wrapped an arm around Xabi's waist. The Basque stiffened. "Are you hungry yet?"

"Umm, yeah." Though Xabi felt like he could actually walk with Steven from here to Liverpool, an army marches on its stomach.

"Ok, let's go then." And he steered the Spaniard to a narrow alley leading to somewhere Xabi didn't particularly care. As long as he's with Steven, it had never mattered whether it's heaven or hell anyway.

***

The bus arrived at their stop and they got out.

"Can I go to your house?" Agger asked.

Fernando was taken off guard. "Umm, why?"

"I've never seen your room," and he walked in the direction of their houses without waiting for the blonde's reaction. Fernando trailed after him without protest. They walked past Agger's home straight to Fernando’s. Nobody's in when they arrived, he guessed his mom might be up to further shopping or chatting with friends. His dad had not yet to come home from his office.

"What do you want to do?" The Spaniard chucked his bag onto the couch in the living room. Agger walked straight to the piano.

"Play something with this," he requested, brushing the Schimmel's surface with his fingertips like he did last night. Fernando mulled over trying to choose something from the collection of songs and pieces he could play with piano in his head, then he thought of one. It's always one of his favorite songs and it just really suited his mood right now.

_'Broken Strings'_

Fernando sat down and Agger walked to stand behind him. He tested the keyboard first before started playing slowly, it's a sad song and he's not in a hurry.

_'Let me hold you_   
_For the last time_   
_It's the last chance to feel again_   
_But you broke me_   
_Now I can't feel anything_

_When I love you,_   
_It's so untrue_   
_I can't even convince myself_   
_When I'm speaking,_   
_It's the voice of someone else'_

His mind went a bit numb as his fingers played the tunes in an auto-pilot. Nobody's singing out loud but the lyrics ran in his head. He might have to read between the lines, in this case had to be listening between the notes, though, but the song conveyed the meaning still. It's the way they always communicated with each other when words failed, or rather when words were ignored which happened quite a lot between them. Even with this, he didn't know whether Agger would care to listen to it.

_'You can't play on broken strings_   
_You can't feel anything that your heart don't want to feel_   
_I can't tell you something that ain't real_

_Oh the truth hurts_   
_And lies worse_   
_How can I give anymore_   
_When I love you a little less than before'_

He didn't know whether he really meant that, too, seriously. But when he finished the song, Agger stooped to kiss his nape and Fernando took in a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"Let's to go to your room," the Dane whispered, and Fernando didn't know what to think of that. Catching his forearm softly, Agger tugged him off the chair, even led him upstairs. But when they arrived on the second floor, he slowed his pace to let the Spaniard lead the way.

Fernando led him into his room, feeling conflict in his head. He knew what's going to happen and by letting Agger into the room was like closing the deal, and he still didn't protest. Maybe he just wanted to do as the song literally said: 'let me hold you, for the last time'.

Fernando locked the door, and when he turned around, Agger kissed him.

He felt numb before and he still felt numb now as the Dane hurriedly stripped him, their lips connected all the time and the Spaniard kissed back hungrily so. Agger’s breath hitched. "Nando," he gasped into Fernando's mouth but resumed kissing immediately. He pushed the blonde's jeans and briefs down and Fernando's hands fumbled with Agger's.

In no time, he's put on the bed, Agger on top of him and they kept kissing and kissing until Fernando felt dizzy because of the lack of oxygen. He's so hard and when Agger rubbed his burning erection against his, Fernando moaned, "Dan,"

Agger stopped, it's not actually the first time Fernando called him by his first name, but he knew Agger didn't realize that because the last time he said it, they're too caught up in trying to put Agger's cock into him.

The Dane gnarled and flipped Fernando to lie on his stomach.

The Spaniard's heart raced, this position again. His mind brought back what Daniel did to him that night: his cock in the crevice of his butt, his fingers in his hole, and he shivered. But Fernando didn't know what's actually coming until Daniel held his cheeks apart and something hot, wet and probing licked the pucker of his entrance.

"Fuck!" Fernando swore and jerked, the Dane held him still by both hands on his ass, he probed the blonde with his tongue again. "Daniel!" Fernando was squirming terribly and he knew it, his hands fisted the sheets and he's panting hard against the mattress.

Daniel licked hard until his pucker was all wet and red, and the Spaniard almost came simply from it. And then when he thought it's all over, the Dane thrust his tongue into the tight hole. Fernando gasped.

And came.

His seeds spilled all over the sheets underneath his stomach and what he could think of was 'fuck, what is mom going to say about this?'. He's still giddy from the unexpected orgasm and still breathing hard and didn't care what Daniel was going to do to him next because he just fucking came, oh my God, without anyone touching his cock and without Daniel inside him yet even. This was so fucking embarrassing.

Daniel was fumbling with something, Fernando could hear from the noise and he turned to look over his shoulder reluctantly, still heaving hard. "What are you doing?" He asked seeing Daniel holding something in his hands.

"Lube," the Dane answered, eyes on the tube of lube which he uncapped and squeezed the content out a generous amount. Fernando had never used it but he knew what it's for. He wondered silently where Daniel got it from and why the fuck he had it with him here now, but he didn't have a chance to ask because at that moment the Dane applied the gel on his entrance. The coolness sent Fernando jerk instantly and chills run up his spine directly to his brain, almost numbed him.

Daniel slowly thrust his lube-coated finger in, and Fernando moaned. His path constricted of its own accord and the Dane hissed at the tightness, the blonde felt his cock harden again.

One finger at first, then two and then three, but Daniel didn't linger long this time. When he eventually pulled out, Fernando fisted the sheets and braced himself for something bigger that was coming.

This time, his body’s hurt less, but his heart’s hurt more.

***

When Cesc got out of the plane, the lack of recreational drugs in his vein was so virulent it made him want to jump back onto the flying object and beg it to take him back to Amsterdam.

But his vacation was over, at least his time in The Netherlands, the rest of the holidays he would have to spend here in Spain. In Madrid, even, not Barcelona. He's a bit surprised that though the thought still cut him raw, it hurt less than before. He didn't know what to think of that. He didn't think before that spending his time with Robin for less than a week could relegate the feelings he had for Gerard. He thought what he had for him would be deeper than this, it'd been years after all: two years for sure and he didn't even know or want to know how long he'd been having a crush on his friend.

All the time in Amsterdam, he thought he didn't think of Gerard because he'd been too high on marijuana. He'd been afraid that when he came down, the delusion would disappear and he’d face with reality that he still had Gerard Piqué all over in his head. But it didn't seem like that now, he'd arrived back in Madrid and he didn't mind that much that Gerard would be with Lionel in Barcelona now. Because he had Robin, too. Suddenly Cesc put his hand in Robin's. The Dutch looked at him surprisingly and when he's met with the Spaniard's bright smile, he grinned back wilder and held Cesc's hand firm and tight like it's the most precious thing in the world.

The whole Van Persie family plus Cesc went into town by a van cab. They would drop the Spaniard at his house first. It was only a 15-minute ride and when the cab parked just in front of his house, Robin helped him take his luggage inside.

They found Gerard in the living room.

His mom was there, too. He's surprised at first and then he realized Gerard must have been waiting for him to arrive. Cesc didn't tell him the arrival time of his flight so he bet his friend must have asked from his mom. But why? Cesc looked at his mom, and then he knew something was wrong, something was terribly freaking wrong because his mom didn't look at him. Though Gerard was looking at him, his eyes betrayed nothing, they were blank, the kind that was scarily empty. And no one welcomed him home yet, nor even said hello to him or Robin. Cesc felt chills run down his spine and he didn't want to know this, didn't want to hear it but he heard himself ask, "What happened?"

Gerard's eyes flicked to Robin and they marked him as an enemy, he could easily read that in the other Catalan's eyes. He caught the Dutch's free hand immediately and he swore he saw fire in Gerard's eyes, only for a split second then it's disappeared.

What the fuck was that?

"I'd get you something to drink, Cesc and Robin. You must be thirsty," his mom mumbled then got up and quickly left the room, not even waiting for either of their reply, leaving all the boys in an uncomfortable silence that Cesc started to feel the tension crackling in the air. Gerard was still staring at Robin and the Dutch glared back menacingly, Cesc's hand in Robin's tightened.

"What the hell is going on here, Gery?" Cesc asked again, his tone commanding. Gerard snapped his eyes back on him.

"I think we should talk about this alone," he answered in a low voice.

"No," Cesc said immediately, he squeezed the Dutch's hand tighter like wanting it to be his anchor and Robin squeezed back encouragingly. Gerard stared at their joined hands and Cesc could even feel an imaginary saw trying to cut them apart. "Robin will not go anywhere, Gerard," Cesc announced, and as he saw Gerard's furious countenance turn to grievous in front of his eyes, he couldn't help his heart from racing and feel triumphant. No, he didn't feel guilty just one bit.

"Cesc," Gerard's eyes averted to the floor, he'd yielded and the melancholy in his surrender gesture made Cesc fear his worst fear. "Arsenal is dead."


	18. Chapter 18

"What did you say?" Cesc found his voice raspy and it sounded very strange to his own ears. He looked at Gerard and wished a smirk would break out on his naughty face and then Gerard would tell him he was just kidding. Though it’s crossing the line to joke about someone's death, it would still be better than the truth. Cesc kept on looking at him and realized he must look pathetic because the race of his heart was faster and faster until he just wished desperately for Gerard to burst out laughing, punch him on the shoulder and tell him he'd got him.

Or for him to just simply wake up from this nightmare.

Or rather, to go back into his dream and never wake up to this reality again.

But Gerard's static stance betrayed it all. He didn't break into a laughter or smile mischievously like he always did but kept looking at him sympathetically. Cesc felt like he needed a seat right now so he slowly sat on a sofa. He scanned the floor looking for the little puppy, sometimes he liked to sleep under the couch because it's warm there, maybe he's under it now. "Arsenal," he called. Robin squeezed his hand hard and he didn't understand why he did that, it hurt. "Arsenal," the Spaniard called again but there's still no movement from wheresoever on the floor which he kept looking over. Sometimes Arsenal’s like that, he heard Cesc but he’s too lazy to budge, he'd know when it's not time for food yet. So if he wanted to sleep, he would sleep and Cesc couldn't deter him from doing it.

"Arsenal." Cesc flopped down on the floor and looked underneath all the couches. Robin caught his forearm.

"Cesc, Cesc stop it." His voice was hoarse and he looked stern. Cesc didn't understand why he acted like that. Arsenal must be under a sofa right here, he just had to find him and bring him to show everyone especially Gerard that he's not dead like his friend had claimed.

"Robin, let me go. I have to find him," he said in a dead-serious tone.

"Cesc, he's not here." Robin swallowed like he was disturbed by the idea. Cesc's heart raced and he felt hot streaks running down his cheeks.

"How?" He asked helplessly in surrender.

The Dutch looked at him, and then looked up at Gerard. He's not in the position to answer this.

"A car. He's hit by a car," Gerard answered in a low voice and the stress seemed to leave Robin a bit when he realized he didn't have to handle this alone.

"When?" Cesc turned to look at Gerard whose face was unreadable.

"Two days ago," the other Spaniard answered. Cesc stared at him but didn't actually see him, his head was blank.

"Why?"

Gerard didn't actually know how to answer this one but his eyes never wavered from Cesc's. "No one saw it happen. Your sister said that he sort of slipped out of the back door. The next things they heard were horn and break and everything was too late."

Cesc couldn't believe this. If he's here that day everything would have been different, wouldn’t it? He knew it would have been different somehow. Suddenly Cesc regretted that he decided to leave everything behind and go to Amsterdam. Arsenal hadn't done anything wrong. The one he wanted to spite was Gerard so it's him he intended to leave here. Had Arsenal felt that he'd abandoned him? Did he feel lonely that's why he went out to find Cesc? Or Bazooka? Fuck, where's Bazooka?

"Where's Bazooka?" He asked aloud, voice shaky, his heart beat faster in apprehension. No, please God, this can't happen to Bazooka, too.

"He's at my house. He's safe, Cesc," Gerard murmured. And though a part of his heart felt relieved, tears ran down his cheeks noiselessly.

"Cesc." Robin's arms wrapped around him. Cesc immediately pushed them away.

"No," he rejected feebly. He didn't feel like receiving condolences from the Dutch right now. It's Robin's fault that everything went wrong like this. He shouldn't have gone to The Netherlands, Robin shouldn't have invited him. The only reason that he said okay was that Gerard was going to Barcelona with Lionel so he needed to go somewhere, too, preferably with Robin, his so-called boyfriend. He shouldn't have decided to do that, Christ, though he liked the city: its festive atmosphere and constant insobriety. He called home only once on the Christmas Day to say Happy Christmas to every one of his family but didn't ask about Arsenal because it would inevitably make him think about Gerard whom he didn't want in his head at that moment.

How could he be so heartless? Cesc felt hot tears trickling down his cheeks further. Arsenal hadn't done anything but he left him alone here and didn't even want to think about him because he's the reminder of Gerard. The result of this was as severe as Arsenal's death. This was all his fault.

Cesc cried noiselessly, then he sobbed. Robin tried to put his arms around him but Cesc pushed him away. This happened twice then he heard Gerard's voice by his ear, "Cesc, this is me, alright?" Then Gerard hugged him, and Cesc didn't know why he didn't feel like shoving his friend away. Instead he clung to him like he's the only thing he had left in the world and sobbed against his chest.

He didn't know how long time had passed but when he looked up again, eyes still tearful, the living room had only the two of them.

***

_'According to the Rutherford scattering experiments, the alpha particles in head-on collisions were scattered at angles of?'_

Xabi looked at the incoming text this morning and felt that he should just be polite enough to answer it, but not now. A couple of days ago, he finally answered the question about the radioactive nuclide, not that late, just like two days after Mr. X had sent him the said question. And they'd been silent on both sides for a couple of days now. Xabi didn't have that much time to think about it though with his head mostly full of Steven and how to handle this situation without hurting Mikel too much. Mr. X seemed so far away from the equation, he'd never even met him in person, how can one have feelings for someone only via texts?

Xabi looked at the time on his phone screen, he had a date with Steven this evening, again. After Monday, he also ditched Mikel yesterday to go out with the Scouser. Mikel looked at him oddly lately and Xabi knew it, his alibi that he had to run errands with his mother wouldn't buy time for him much longer and Xabi didn't like lying, no. He'd never thought he could become this kind of person, but then he kept on doing it, for his benefits even. He knew it's evil and he felt very repentant, but still.

Mikel let him go for another evening easily, he stopped badgering him after the previous two evenings. His mien was calm but his eyes betrayed something else, they’re full of questions and confusion that made Xabi feel guilty to the max but he still turned and walked away.

He met Steven at Plaza de España, it's Friday today and they could linger until very late. He found the Scouser sitting on a fence playing with his phone.

"Oh, you arrive," he looked up to greet the Basque as Xabi approached him. "What do you want to do today?"

They rented bicycles and cycled around the park. The sun was low in the sky and soon the winter darkness would blanket Madrid but they're in no hurry still, except that the wind that blew over his face was getting colder every second the night creeping over.

"You're slack, old man, it's been only half an hour," Steven teased, he slowed his bike to keep pace with Xabi who rode a bit slower.

"Why rush?" the Spaniard asked. "The park is not that big. We ride to take a rest, not to win a race."

"Wow, homophone, couldn't even distinguish with your Basque accent."

"Steven Gerrard, you're English and I couldn't even tell apart when you say 'doughnut' and 'do not'. I bet your Scouser accent is sucker."

Steven's laugh was brighter than the sun. Speaking of which, it's scarce in winter time like this and Steven's laughter could be a great substitute for the warmth that was deficient, as well as the light, like right now. He could light up his world in the dark, could be the fireplace in a cold night, Steven Gerrard could be the summer to his winter.

When they're tired, they returned the bikes and headed out of the park for something to eat. The world was dark now but Madrid was illuminated by millions of lights and people poured out of their abodes to stroll leisurely in town for a Friday night, because it's just the Spanish way of life to be fully alive under the stars.

"What do you wanna eat?" The British asked, putting his hands in his pockets. It's getting colder and this time both Steven and Xabi had scarves around their necks.

"Anything that isn't far. I'm starving now so don't you dare leading me on a detour like last time."

"Xabi, you're a spoilsport. I'm thinking about taking a bypass to Liverpool and back before dinner." The Basque laughed at Steven's silliness. "And by the way, this is your hometown, not mine. You should be the one who leads the way and doesn't get lost, not the other way around."

They said even the Venetians could get lost in Venice. For Xabi, a Madrileño like him could get lost in a city as easy as Madrid.

They walked along a road, skimming for some nice dining places.

"Do you do not want a doughnut?" The Scouser asked in the Scouser accent and Xabi knew he just fooled around so he replied in the Basque accent,

"It's chilly so I'd prefer some chilis, they will make me warm."

"With some breads, because if you eat only chilis, your breaths would be on fire."

"And some pieces of pizza, in peace, please."

"More food? I'd scream if you'd ask for ice-cream, too, chubby."

"You called me 'chubby', hubby?!"

Xabi didn't even know what he's saying, it's just a slip of tongue because this conversation was going too fast for his brain to think twice, or even think in the first place. Steven had an advantage over him, at least he's the native speaker of the language, come on! And now, now when he slipped, he couldn't think of anything to say that could be more embarrassing than this. Damn.

Steven laughed, his breaths condensed in the night air and Xabi felt his cheeks flush red. The Scouser laughed and laughed. "Xabi baby, those words aren't homophones so you lose."

Xabi snarled, grabbed an end of the Scouser's scarf and pulled him in. Steven still chuckled and didn't act like he's surprised by one bit, not even when the Spaniard tugged the scarf to close the gap between them.

Steven's lips were hot unlike the chill of other things in the world around them. The warmth made the Basque gasp into the kiss and his heart raced as his rational brain gave way to the undetainable desire. Fuck Mikel, fuck Mr. Anonymous. Fuck the chemistry, and the physics as well, for that matter. He didn't care anymore that he was more compatible with Mr. X or even Mikel. As the taste of Steven's lips shot straight to his brain, the same taste as he remembered he'd savoured three years ago, all he could think of was Steven's flavour, Steven's skin, Steven's smell.

Fuck, he must be crazy, but he didn't care. Because this, this felt so right, in the most illogical way, it went against all theories in Xabi's head. All he'd heard of, everyone always said all it took for one to love another was the chemistry. Sure, not only that birds of a feather flock together, but also opposites could attract. But this, this thing between him and Steven, it went against all the rules that had accounted for. They're not that much alike, less than Mikel that he was certain. Nor they're completely opposite, at least Steven had some interests in science like him and was good at it to some extent otherwise he wouldn't have made it to that summer camp. This held no possible logical reason he could think of but it still felt so, so right until Xabi didn't want to let him go.

Steven groaned and kissed back hungrily, and he tasted like Liverpool. He tasted smoky like the harbour city's re-kindled spirit and smouldering like the burning summer grass under his feet in the midst of winter, the same as he'd remembered three years ago. But this time there's also a new flavour on the tip of Steven's tongue, sweet, maybe. He'd never thought of Liverpool as sweet before, but as he clung to the Scouser's forearm, dazed by the blazing kiss and drunk in love with Steven holding him close in his arms in return, Xabi thought he knew why,

It’s sweet like he’d just arrived home.

***

Fernando didn't go to practice today.

He went straight home after class, told his parents that he had a headache and only went down for dinner. He didn't go down when his mom knocked on his door and told him that Daniel was downstairs. He told her to tell the Dane that he had a headache.

The next day he went to school and Agger approached him at his table. Daniel Agger had deigned to visit him at his desk which had never happened before in the history of this school so it drew quite a lot of attention from his friends as well as Agger's.

"Your mom said you're unwell," the Dane stated.

"Yes, I had a headache," Fernando didn't look the other boy in the eyes but at the book on his desk.

"How are you feeling now?"

"I don't know, still not that well," he lied.

"Will you let me into your room if I go later tonight?"

The Spaniard felt his cheeks burn, mostly because he's fuming. "Agger, I'm ill."

"I think it's only you that keep thinking below the belt, you know?" Agger smirked amusingly and Fernando's face heated up further. "And call me 'Daniel'."

"Hey, is there something I don't know?" Sergio raised his brow after the Dane had walked away. Fernando gnarled.

"No!"

That evening Fernando still didn't go to practice and told his mom that he felt too ill to welcome any guest before shutting his bedroom door. He didn't know whether Agger came since his mom didn't disturb him but he doubted that he did. He knew this alibi would get old soon enough but as long as it worked, Fernando would stick to it.

The next day, Agger didn't approach him in the classroom, but as Fernando walked along the corridor, he was caught on his forearm and dragged to a nearby alcove. "Wha-?!" He yelled, and suddenly shut his mouth when he realized it's Agger.

"You know what? This isn't going to work as long as you think," the Dane said, putting both hands in his pocket.

"What doesn't work?" The Spaniard feigned innocence.

"Your lies."

"I didn't lie!"

"You did, too. You aren't sick."

"I was!" That's a lie, though.

"You just used that excuse to avoid me." Agger stared, his face's serious and Fernando felt his heart race fast.

"Listen, Agger. I really didn't feel well so I wasn't in the mood to rehearse or anything like that," he tried to reason out.

"Why don't you let me in last night?"

"Agger, I was sick. I was too tired to tolerate your abhorrent manners as well as didn't want you to catch the flu." And he saw the Dane smirk at the corner of his mouth.

"You seem better now. So I will see you at the studio this evening?"

Fernando swallowed hard. Or should he just talk it out with the Dane now? Of course, he didn't plan on practicing in the evening, he didn't plan on practicing again ever that's why he made up about his flu in the first place. Agger would keep badgering him like this every day and he would keep using alibis so if he'd stick to that decision, he should just tell him now.

"Umm, maybe not," so the Spaniard answered, didn't look Agger in the eyes. The Dane raised his brow.

"Why?"

"I don't like playing electric guitar." Fernando looked up this time. "It's just not my cup of tea. Sorry Agger, but I think I can't play with you on School Music Festival Day."

The Dane stared at him, his look indecipherable.

"You have to play more, then you'll soon start to like it," he said like it's the most reasonable thing in the world. This time it's Fernando's turn to stare.

"Agger, did you even listen to me?" His voice was parched.

"It's just that simple, Fernando," the Dane said. "You've done really well so far. I want you to keep on playing it a bit more then you'd soon start to like it-"

"How about we talk about something that I want, not you?!" The Spaniard fumed. "I don't want to play it, Agger, and I'll not play more of it!"

"You have to compromise." Suddenly Agger changed tack and Fernando stared at him in disbelief. "You don't like it, but I do. And I want you to play it for me, Fernando. Why can't you play it for me? Why can't you compromise if you love me?"

The Spaniard couldn't believe his own ears. He stared at the Dane. They'd never said anything about 'love' before, they'd never discussed what was between them and now Agger had the guts to bring it up and assume that he loved him.

He did love him, he thought, though, but now he felt cheated. So it'd never been anything about love at all for the Dane, it's just Agger who tried to use it to control him like he was a fool. So this is it then. "You know what?" Fernando looked at him but didn't actually see anything. Everything seemed so blurred and he felt so weak. "I had tried, you know? But I shouldn't be the only one who keep trying and compromising. If you really love me, you would have loved me the way I am, not the way you want me to be."

Agger stared at him, he opened his mouth like trying to come back with something but Fernando didn't wait for it. Turning his back to the Dane and somehow with a broken heart, Fernando walked straight away.

***

Gerard was with him until dinner time.

They moved upstairs, Gerard helping with Cesc's luggage, and Cesc took a shower. When he got out, Gerard was still there, lying on Cesc's bed and leafing through a movie magazine. Cesc stopped crying by now but his eyes were still swollen and he didn't feel like staying alone, his mind was still unstable and he doubted if he's left to his own device, he might actually lose it. But Gerard didn't say anything, he just lay there like he knew his presence could calm Cesc somewhat and Cesc felt grateful for it.

After dinner and helping with the dishwashing, - with the whole table asking about Amsterdam just for the sake of it since Cesc's grieving countenance told them he didn't give a damn about Amsterdam - they went upstairs and Gerard simply announced, "I'll stay over tonight." He opened Cesc's drawer looking for his favourite pajamas he always borrowed when he came to sleep over.

Cesc felt tired but didn't feel sleepy at all. He lay in bed looking at the ceiling, didn't feel like moving or reading or even playing games, nothing. His mind was occupied by Arsenal mostly and he felt tears brimming on the corners of his eyes again so he wiped them away. Gerard came into the room after a shower and Cesc feigned being asleep because he didn't want to talk to Gerard either.

After a time, Gerard got into bed. His arm wrapped around Cesc's torso and tugged him closer. Cesc's heart raced. He didn’t know why it reacted like that but he tried to calm it down afraid that Gerard would realize he wasn't actually asleep. But Gerard didn't seem to notice his erratic heartbeats, though there's a second that he went still. He wondered what's on his friend's mind if not the suspicion when he felt a soft kiss on his lips and it's his turn to go all frozen.

What the hell is going on?!

He didn't move or yell, he just lay there still pretending that he didn't feel or realize anything, mostly because he's completely paralyzed by shock. It's just a peck and after a second, Gerard pulled away. Still, they had never kissed before, and Cesc had never known that Gerard wanted to do this, with him, of all people. But Gerard had Lionel now. Cesc was confused and in his head one question kept echoing over and over, 'why?'

His phone rang and Cesc knew from the ringtone that it's Robin. Shit, he had totally forgotten about him, he must have been worried. But he didn't move, and he felt Gerard shift to snatch the phone from the nightstand. Cesc knew he must look at the screen to see who's calling before turning off the volume.

Cesc didn't protest, of course. His mind still raced by the thought of Gerard kissing him and all its implications. It couldn't be mistaken, he did feel his friend's lips on his. So what does this all mean? When Gerard put his arm back around his torso, Cesc automatically snuggled up against him and he felt something flutter in his stomach, the feeling he always felt when he's around Gerard since two and many more years ago. It hadn't changed, he still felt like that toward his friend and Cesc felt stunned because he thought this feeling had already died down since now he had Robin. He's quite okay with the Dutch and thought he'd love him the way he deserved in no time, especially after Christmas in Amsterdam.

But it didn't. Of course, nothing went according to plan. And now after sleeping with Robin for almost a week, Arsenal was dead and he's in Gerard's arm in his own bed, completely forgot about Robin until he just called to remind the both of them that he's still alive and was Cesc's official boyfriend.

Fuck, he needs weed, maybe it would make him feel better and everything less complicated.

***

Could one love two people with all his heart at the same time?

Iker didn't pick up his phone though David had tried and tried until he'd lost his count how many calls he'd made. Victoria called him once, he picked up and made the conversation as brief as possible and then resumed trying to chase Iker down, in vain, of course.

When he kind of yielded, he called Álvaro.

"What's up?" Álvaro picked up.

"Álvaro, is Iker with you?"

There's silence on the other end of the line. "Why should Iker be with me?" He asked eventually, a bit cautiously.

"He didn't pick up my calls."

"Are you guys fighting again?"

David was a bit surprised because Álvaro sounded so calm. "No, not really. But I need to talk to him."

"What for, David?"

Now, that sounded weird. "What do you mean by that, Álvaro?"

"What do you want to talk to him about? David, you already have Victoria."

The English boy almost dropped his phone, he gaped. "Álvaro, do you have anything to do with what Iker said to me today?"

Álvaro was silent for a couple of seconds. "Iker broke up with you then." It's a statement though he sounded surprised by that, too.

"You could say that," David's voice turned low and dangerous.

"Good for him."

"What?!" David couldn't believe his own ears. "And how do you even know about Iker and me in the first place anyway? Did Iker tell you?"

"No, he didn't. But I'm not an idiot, you know?"

David was silent. "You're telling me you had it all figured out by yourself?" He sounded disbelief.

"Yes, and don't sound too surprised. It makes me feel disparaged."

"Whatever. Do you know where Iker is now?"

"No. And my suggestion is you should leave him alone."

"But we need to talk!"

"At least for now, David. Don't rush into something, it'd do you no good."

David cut the line because he’s in no mood of listening to Álvaro’s preaching, he'd already heard enough of it for a day. He called Iker for another hundred times and texted for another two hundred but there's no response from the Spaniard. At the end of the day, he realized he should just let him go for tonight, so David went home.

Sunday came and the first thing that came across David's mind was had Iker called him back. He snatched his phone to check the screen and his heart sank because there were no missed calls or replied texts. None. He felt down for a second then hit call to Iker again.

The Spaniard didn't pick up, as usual. David didn't panic much, actually, Iker could avoid him now but he couldn't do that forever. At least, tomorrow they'd see each other at school, he wouldn't plan to ditch class, would he? But even if he actually ditched, there were tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, and Iker couldn't keep running away from him ever and ever and ever.

But David still wanted to test the Spaniard's limit, he wanted to know how long Iker would be able to withstand his persistency, because Iker had never resisted him before, ever. David knew Iker's weak spot and he knew how to make his friend cave in, they had been best friends for years anyway so it's almost impossible that he didn't know Iker inside out. Iker always succumbed to him, David just had to ask the right way or say the right things and he'd always have his way with him. David knew that this time would be just like other times, Iker would yield eventually.

David was certain about that though they never actually had a fight this severe before, especially not with issues like this. This was a new territory but David was still confident of his charm, it worked on Iker before so it would always work on him.

David stopped calling after around ten missed calls and got up to take a shower. When he returned, there's a new message awaiting in his phone.

_'U r a relentless bastard, rn't u?'_

David smiled very wide. Finally! He knew Iker would cave in eventually but this surprised him nonetheless.

_'I'm importunate like dat n u know the best. Can I call u?'_

_'No, n stop doing dat. It's freaking disturbing.'_

_'Doing what?'_

_'Calling me a hundred times a day like a psychopath.'_

_'If u pick up just once, it wouldn't have tallied up 2 a hundred times.'_

_'I didn't need 2 pick up, we have nothing 2 talk. Stop calling me.'_

David stared at the message. _'We have a lot of things 2 talk.'_ He typed back.

_'No, we don't. I had already finished talking 2 u.'_

_'Iker, I'm going 2 say it right here if u won't let me talk 2 u on the phone. I know why u'r so angry. But I've been thinking about it n maybe I don't want 2 break up with u.'_

He knew this one was going to work, he just knew it. And like he speculated, Iker was silent longer than usual this time so David used this chance to call the Spaniard hoping he would pick up.

But he didn't.

And he still didn't reply. David called him again, still not picking up. The British started to get frustrated.

_'As long as I am ur friend with benefits, we won't keep doing this.'_

_'You're not my friend with benefits!'_

_'Then what am I? Dave, pray tell.'_

David took in a deep breath. This is it. _'Listen, Iker, I think I love you.'_ He stared at the words, tried reading it out loud to find whether it sounded weird. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and hit send.

It took a minute before Iker replied: _'What?'_

 _'Can I call u?'_ He sent then without waiting for a permission, hit call again. Iker still didn't pick up the phone.

_'No, n u can't say something like that. That's so heartless!'_

David quirked his brow. _'I just told u I think I love u, how could that be so heartless?'_

_'What about Victoria?!'_

_''I think I love her, too...'_

_'U'r so selfish, David. U can't do this.'_

_'What would u do if I say I love both u and Victoria equally?'_

_'Bullshit, David. U can't love two people equally!'_

_'Is that so?'_

_'Stop fucking fooling around n get real! U and I can't happen n that's that!'_

_'Iker, I mean it.'_

_'No, u don't.'_

_'I mean it n I'll show u that what I said was true.'_

_'I don't need that, I don't want any kind of proof! If I can't be the only one for u, I'd rather not be anything!'_

_'Iker, I can't just break up with Victoria.'_

_'Of course, u can't.'_

_'U know what? I don't fucking care.'_ David could practically feel patience running out of him. _'I want u and I'd never let u go!'_

***

 **D:** So?

 **A:** ...

 **B:** So what?

 **D:** We haven't had a session for quite a time. Haven't you guys discovered something interesting about love?

 **C:** Oh, you go first.

 **D:** Hmm, are you alright? Normally you wouldn't let a chance to prattle slip away this easily. Love makes you speechless these days?

 **C:** Not really. I just realized that if I ever want someone, I should never ignore my feelings, I should just act on it. I should have done this long ago but I didn't. I had been afraid that if he didn't think the same and I did something unseemly, I would lose a friend. But it seemed that I was wrong, I'd been giving up without even trying all along and it hurts more than rejection to have to keep wondering what it would be like to be more than a friend to him. You would never know unless you try, right? So right now I'm trying my best to make things between us right again.

 **A:** Beware, my friend. You're certain it isn't too late?

 **C:** I don't think so. Why would it be too late?

 **A:** I don't know. Because there's already someone else who would be there for him? Because you'd already hurt him too much that you couldn't make amends and things between you couldn't be the same again?

 **D:** Aww, seems like someone is hurt. What happen, A?

 **A:** I used to think that love is about giving and not taking. As long as the other is happy, I'm glad to be there and make everything work out. But he didn't appreciate my effort, he's just being selfish! He wants to take but he never gives, and love doesn't work that way! He said he loved two people equally at the same time, that’s just bullshit! How could that even possible?!

 **C:** Love is not always about giving, sometimes it's about taking. I used to think if you love someone, you have to let him go. They said if he's yours, he'll eventually come back. But that's not 100% true, you know? Sometimes you have to fight for it otherwise you’d lose it forever.

 **A:** Oh, you start talking like him now, he said he'd never let me go!

 **B:** Did he really say that?

 **A:** Yes, he did. I always know he's a persistent kind of guy and I always capitulate. But that was the first time he said something that despotic, and it scared me.

 **D:** I wouldn't like that much, too, if I were you. What about you, B?

 **B:** Well, at first I thought love was about compromising. But then I know it would never work out if only one of the parties is the only one who keeps doing the compromises, which is me. He said that I should try harder, that I should keep making myself compatible with him. He doesn't even care what I want, he doesn't even love me for who I am!

 **D:** Have you tried having a conversation with him about this?

 **B:** No, I don't want to fight anymore and this would definitely be an inevitable fight. We kept fighting and fighting since the day we knew each other so this time I just told him that I didn't want to change myself for him anymore and just walked away.

 **D:** If I were you, I would try making points with him one last time. Sometimes relationship doesn't work out because of the lack of proper communication.

 **B:** If you know him like I do, you'd know that normal communication with him doesn't work, let alone a proper one. Anyway, let's talk about you. What happen lately, D?

 **D:** Well, just like all of you, I guess, at first I had a preconception of love. I thought all it takes to love someone was chemistry, either it be that they're so much alike or totally different. They say birds of a feather flock together as well as opposites attract, so I'm prepared for either. But no, when love actually happens, it doesn't occur according to rules or any assumptions, there're no laws of attraction. It just...sort of happens.

 **C:** Aww, somebody's smitten around here. How sweet.

 **A:** I think it's the same as you, even though yours just didn't 'sort of happen'. You have to fight for it.

 **C:** Yes, that's the difference, isn't it? I had never fought for it before but I'll do it now. So he'll know that I care. It’s worth a shot, though. If it's love, everything’s worth giving a try.

 **B:** Is it?

B looked dubious. A grimaced.

 **A:** Oh, I, too, don't think so.


	19. Chapter 19

"Fernando, your friend Martin is here."

Fernando raised his brow. Martin? What Martin? He doesn't have a friend named Martin. The Spaniard got up off the bed, mostly out of curiosity, and strode down the stairs.

The boy he met in the living room was unexpected.

"Martin?" Fernando blurted out in surprise, his guard was up immediately. It's Martin Škrtel, friend of Daniel Agger. "What are you doing here?!" He asked then realized that it wouldn't be wise if his family heard the conversation. The blonde looked around nervously and felt a bit relieved that no one's in the proximity.

"Hi, Nando." The Slovak smiled brightly at him, though Fernando found it a bit predatory, with Martin's looks and demeanor. "You haven't been to practice lately," he stated.

Actually Fernando hadn't been to practice at all. After that day he’d fought with Agger, the Spaniard ignored him completely. The Dane had tried to talk to him at school but Fernando acted like he's invisible. He came to his house but the blonde refused to meet him. He tried calling him from time to time but Fernando had never picked up the calls.

It’d been almost a week, and Agger kept trying until Fernando almost caved in, just almost. And then Martin showed up on his doorsteps. "Did Agger send you?"

"Agger?" Martin raised his brow, sitting in a couch. "You go by his last name these days?"

"I always go by his last name." The Spaniard crossed his arms, didn't sit down. "What do you want?"

"He misses you," Martin stated matter-of-factly, looking at the blonde to observe his reaction. Fernando raised his brow.

"Did he say so?"

"He didn't, but if you know him enough, he said it in his silence." Here we go again, the thing about saying without saying that Agger's so good at. He's just so sick of it. "I thought you knew him enough," Martin pointed out.

"We don't anymore." Fernando glared at him.

"Why not?"

"Well, to make it clear, Agger doesn't miss me, he misses my skills," the blonde sneered.

"That's not true. He dragged you into our band because he wanted you to be near. I don't know how you became his friend in the first place but you surely mean something to him. I've never seen him like this, he's crazy for you."

"No, he doesn't!" Fernando snapped. He just wanted me because I could be what he wanted me to be, he's in love with my potentiality, not with me. The Spaniard felt something constrict in his chest. "Why are you here really?"

"Well, to tell the truth, not only Danny that misses you." Martin grinned mischievously. "We are all waiting for our guitarist."

"You don't need me, you already have Agger."

"We need two guitarists."

"No, you don't. That's redundant."

"Seriously, Nando, I came here to plead you and you're rejecting me?"

"That's what I'm doing, yes." Fernando pressed his lips. "I won't play for the band, tell Agger that he can find someone else. And if that's all, I think we're done now."

 

Christmas came and went, Agger texted him wishes but Fernando never replied. Other than that, everything went back to normal, Fernando practiced piano and played football with his friends after class. Agger tried to talk to him a couple of times more but he didn't really try that hard and Fernando was disappointed because he'd never got a proper apology from him though it might be because he’d never given him a chance. But from his experience, Agger would never say it even if Fernando had given him that chance, it all came down to a game of equivocation. As days turned into months, Agger had stopped trying and it's just like that that they didn't talk to each other anymore.

***

He can't keep on doing this anymore, he just can't.

Xabi had been sneaking out with Steven for a couple of weeks and he knew it's wrong, but he didn't have the courage to tell the truth to Mikel, yet. Mikel didn't ask, though he had suspicions in his dark eyes, he unwillingly let Xabi go to wherever he went every time Xabi asked to. Other than that, they still abided by the routine, Mikel still picked him up every morning but Xabi never had breakfast at Mikel's place anymore. After class, some days he played football with Mikel's friends or had dinner with him, but some days he also excused himself early to run some errands. He couldn't say he wanted to go home though because then Mikel would accompany him home. No, Xabi didn't actually want to go home and Mikel couldn't know that.

But Mikel wasn't a fool, Xabi knew he knew something was off but he'd never said it. There's always something flickering in his eyes every time he suspected Xabi was lying and Xabi always felt chills run down his spine every time he saw that.

Then one day, he decided he couldn't keep on being a cheater anymore.

He's having dinner with Mikel at a quiet diner and the other Basque had been really quiet lately, they didn't really talk about anything anymore. They still kept their routine but just out of duty, Xabi just knew that Mikel would never be the one who broke it first. Even when he suspected anything, he'd never said a word. If there'd be anyone who ended this, it would have to be Xabi.

This is it, then, Xabi thought. His first actual relationship was about to end, he'd never thought it would end like this, and so soon, too. He thought that they'd be good together, they had something in common and Mikel could broaden his mind to the area he didn't know, anything but physics of course because Xabi’s quite certain that Mikel would never know better than him in this topic. No offence, he's just confident like that when it came to his favourite subject. But no, it didn't work out like he'd thought and he didn't think they should hold each other back anymore.

"Do you think we should break up?" Xabi asked, didn't look the other in the eyes.

Xabi didn't know whether Mikel had been expecting that. He looked mildly surprised, but not shocked. "You think so?" He looked at Xabi.

"Umm, yes," he murmured, still didn't look back at Mikel.

"Why?"

Why? Well, this is the tricky part. He didn't prepare any speech and he didn't want to lie, not anymore. "It would never work out, between us," he said in a low voice.

"Do you have someone else?"

Xabi knew this would come eventually, sooner rather than later. As he said, he didn't want to lie again. "I met someone whom I knew three years ago. Apparently he's in Madrid right now." He didn't want to say any further. Mikel raised his brow.

"So he’s your ex?"

"We didn't have an actual relationship back at the time, I'm still too young to realize what we had between us. And the period was too short, I met him when I went to a science summer camp in England."

"So he's a Brit?" Mikel didn’t sound that much surprised.

"Yeah."

"You like him then?"

"I think so." This time he looked up at his boyfriend, to show him sincerity. "I'd never thought I would ever meet him again, with me in Spain and him in Liverpool. We'd even lost contact but then I ran into him in town and we were really surprised. That's how we caught up again."

"All these past weeks when you said you had to run errands with your mom, did you go out with him?"

Xabi swallowed hard. "Yes," he whispered low.

"Umm, I thought so." He crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his chair. "I'm not an idiot, you know?"

"I know, and I've never thought you're an idiot or anything, Mikel," Xabi rushed to say.

"Then why did you lie to me? You thought I would buy you and never find out?" His voice sounded hurtful and Xabi felt so ashamed, he blushed in disgrace.

"No, I..." He took in a deep breath when he realized he didn't have an answer for this. "I'm so sorry, Mikel," was what he said.

Mikel stared at him like he couldn't believe that Xabi would just easily admit his wrongdoing: no excuses, no alibis. Right now, he didn't know which he preferred more: truth or lies.

"I forgive you," Mikel said at last. Though he felt his heart ache, he also felt relieved that eventually one of them voiced this out and they actually talked about it.

"Thanks." Xabi looked at him. Mikel smiled, and his eyes smiled with him so Xabi smiled, too, because right now that they had taken out their masks, they could be actually sincere with each other. Xabi didn't feel obliged to do what he's supposed to do as Mikel's boyfriend anymore, but what he really wanted to do. And it felt so great, he felt light like the weight was lifted off his shoulders. He felt a bit guilty about it but squashed the unpleasant feeling down. Wouldn't it be great that finally they could act the way they want? No more pretending, no more masquerading, no more impressing one another. Love shouldn't make him feel burdened, shouldn't make anyone feel forced, he understood that now. You shouldn't try to make it work, if it works, then it works, and if it doesn't, then no one could force it. He tried to stick to the theories of love just too much before: birds of a feather or the attraction of the opposites or whatever. Despite chemistry, two people wouldn't mean anything to one another if that one element didn't occur of its own accord, without manipulation and obligation, the element which is 'love'.

As Xabi looked into Mikel's eyes and saw the hazily complacent honesty he had never seen in there before, he knew he had done the right thing.

***

 **D:** Do you believe in destiny?

 **B:** Yes, I think. If it isn't for destiny, why do we meet a particular someone but not others?

 **C:** Why don't you think it’s random? The one sitting here could have been you or anybody else. Does it really matter?

 **B:** Are you saying I don't matter?

 **C:** For Christ's sake, you're matter as much as I am!

 **D:** If it's not for destiny, why do we cross paths with a particular someone over and over again?

 **A:** Who are you talking about? Now you make me wanna know about that 'particular someone'.

 **C:** What's your opinion then? Does destiny mean to you more than chemistry?

 **D:** In this case, yes.

 **A:** Wow, that's surprising coming from you, Xabi who reveres sciences more than anything else actually says he believes in fates, which are scientifically unproven, rather than some laws of attractions.

Xabi: Love has no laws, and is not sciences.

 **C:** Some, like me, will say that the feelings of love can be detected as distinctive patterns of electrical activity in the brain.

Xabi: Yes, but that's what happened when you're already in love. We're talking about before that event, what triggered love?

 **C:** I'd say opposites attract and complement each other, like Yin and Yang.

 **Xabi:** Not in every single case, no. From my experience, I could say that that's a controversial hypothesis, as well as birds of a feather flocking together. There's no rule of falling in love.

 **B:** What's your assumption then?

 **Xabi:** I'm telling you now that there's no exact theory of this universe's deepest mystery, there's no right or wrong about love, no universal law of affection, no equation of heart. Each love is unique, and since it cannot be explained by science, it is magic.

 **E:** If you put it like that, let me ask you a question, do you believe in love at first sight?

 **B:** Hey, who are you?!

 **A:** David?! How can you get in here?!

David: Oh, please, Iker, do you really think you can get away from me?

***

"Iker, won't you listen to me for a second?!" David gnarled frustratingly at the Spaniard who'd been turning away from him all day. Iker won't talk to him, had ignored him completely like he’s nothing but air. And he's so tired of this game, he just wanted his Iker back, come on.

But Iker didn't agree to this and didn't indulge David anymore. He's hurt but he still tried and tried, hoping that eventually Iker would succumb, but he didn't. And by the end of the day, David was fatigued and as he’s having dinner date with Victoria, his mind was somewhere else most of the time.

The next day, he tried again, but Iker acted the same as yesterday, no matter what he said or did, Iker didn't show any sign that he noticed. David knew what he's doing and also knew that he's being selfish once again, but he just couldn't lose Iker. He's the only one that could keep him right. He knew this excuse was getting old but that was the truth and he'd never lied when he said he felt like he lost his mind a bit when Iker's not right by his side, their dynamics were like that from the start and he'd never questioned what it meant. But now, now that he saw everything more clearly, he kind of understood it,

He loved Iker. Like, he's 'in love' with Iker. Had been for a long, long time.

But he also loved Victoria, at least that's what he thought, though she came later. Could a person love two people at the same time? Iker said that it couldn't be, that it's wrong, but what would he expect him to do? Breaking up with Victoria? How could he do that to her? That would be so wrong since she'd done nothing wrong.

But the more Iker ignored him, the more he felt like getting closer to losing his mind.

Days passed into weeks, the more an hour ticked by, the nearer he got to insanity.

One day, he hit up Álvaro's place and got drunk on purpose. Álvaro didn't even ask him much since he'd seen everything everyday even if he didn't want to.

"If you're going to ask me what to do - well, even though you aren't, I’d tell you anyway - I would say I can't decide for you," as the evening wore on and they'd had quite a full bottle of beer each, Álvaro said that out of the cramped silence. "Love for everyone is different but there's one thing I know, and it has to be common, one can't be in love with two at the same time." He toyed with his empty beer bottle, didn't look at David while the other also stared at the television but didn't actually see anything. "David, dude, you need to choose."

David didn't ask how he knew about that, but as he left Álvaro's house at dusk, he'd made up his mind.

He chooses Victoria.

***

Cesc woke up to find Gerard still in bed with him. The morning shaft of sunlight that poured in through the window fell on Gerard's sleeping countenance making Cesc's heart beat rapturously like he had just found a lifeboat under a beacon, Cesc just wished he could be his savior. He looked at Gerard for quite some time, light danced on the other boy's baby face glowing his skin bright. He held out his hand to touch Gerard's lips lightly, the sensations of last night's kiss still vivid in his mind, his heart raced faster, and that's when Gerard opened his eyes.

Cesc snatched his hand back so fast in reflex.

Gerard looked at him, and Cesc could keep their eye contact for just a couple of seconds before he had to look away, afraid that the depth of his stare would betray too much for his liking.

Silence started to become really uncomfortable when Gerard finally asked, "What are you thinking about?"

What kind of question was that?! Cesc's heart was still beating like crazy.

"Don't you have to go to Barcelona?"

It's practically the question that nagged him since last night and the first thing he could think of when he’s asked.

Gerard stared at him. "Do you want me to leave?"

Fuck, no, that's not what he meant! "Don't you have to?"

"I've cancelled the trip."

"What?" Cesc’s eyes snapped back to Gerard's.

"I can't leave you alone," he answered slowly, "when everything is this messed up."

"You don't have to cancel the trip. What will Lionel think?"

"Who cares?"

That took Cesc aback. He stared at Gerard, trying to find a grain of truth in those words. Gerard didn’t sway and Cesc wondered what he's thinking behind those eyes. "What are you trying to do?" His voice was ice-cold.

Gerard looked at him for a couple of seconds more before steering his eyes away. His arms were still around Cesc’s smaller body since last night and Cesc had no idea of their presence around him until Gerard made him aware of it by tightening the embrace. Cesc stiffened. They lay still, Cesc’s body was rigid while Gerard evaluated the situation. Then the taller Catalan slowly leaned closer, nuzzled against Cesc’s neck which had him completely paralyzed, hot breaths on his skin sending him shiver.

What the hell is going on here?!

"I'm trying to fix things," Gerard mumbled, kissing his neck softly, hot lips burnt his flesh and Cesc understood nothing.

"Fix what?"

"Us."

The word wasn't that clear being murmured against his skin and Cesc's mind spun. A part of his brain told him to push Gerard away, that this is too confusing and he needs space and Gerard couldn't simply do this, but the other part told him that it's okay of course, Gerard is his friend and he's just trying to console him.

And if they don't fix 'us' right now, how would he be able to get up and live another day?

He'd just lost Arsenal, he didn't think he could stand to lose Gerard to someone else's arms right at the moment.

Gerard kissed Cesc's neck again, nibbled the soft skin which sent the other boy tingle from head to toes. Cesc squeezed his eyes shut, his hands caught Gerard's forearms, half-pushing, half-holding him there while fighting with himself whether to keep the moment like this or break it. Gerard's hands roamed over his back and the gesture sent heat to shoot straight to his groin. Cesc stiffened, but it wasn't until his friend's hand landed on his butt that he suddenly pushed him away.

"Gery, that's enough," the boy panted, his heart beat so fast like he'd been running for miles even though in reality he just lay there, being led on by his friend who didn't really think of him more than anything but a pathetic gay boy who fell in love with his best friend albeit knowing better. What he doesn't understand is what the fuck Gerard is playing at? He shuddered, if this was all a joke, it should stop right fucking now.

But Gerard didn't take any of it, he grabbed Cesc's nape, hauled him close and crushed their lips together.

Cesc was in no shape to fight the bigger boy at all, though he shoved, hit, and even kicked. Gerard manacled both of Cesc's wrists in one hand to restrain all the attacks, whispering solace in his ears, "It’s okay, Cesc. You don't have to be scared."

But Cesc still fought, though not with all his might. He bit Gerard's lower lip and tasted the steely flavor of blood, he begged Gerard to stop that he almost sobbed, but Gerard simply turned him over with one flip, locked Cesc under his body while the other lay helplessly on his stomach. He still captured Cesc's wrists in one hand, this time behind his back, while he bend down to nibble the tip of Cesc's ear. "Cesc, please," he whispered.

Cesc was petrified.

Because after all these, Gerard's voice still quivered, and suddenly Cesc stopped all the struggles. Though his body still shook uncontrollably from both exhaustion and fear, his mind was slowly placated. The wayward and rather stupid part of his heart told him it's alright, the other part with a lot higher intelligence thrashed around and screamed desperately.

"Cesc," Gerard pleaded faintly and kissed down Cesc's spine while his hands worked with Cesc's pajamas bottom. Cesc stiffened, struggled faintly, his wrists were still held captive. Taking off his bottom roughly, Gerard worked his way to Cesc's entrance. Biting his lip, Cesc held his breath and gasped when Gerard pushed his fingers in.

It didn't hurt much when Gerard entered him, he didn't know where Gerard got the lube and he might be gotten used to being penetrated from the past week and it made him sad, because a nostalgic part of him still wished Gerard was his first. But it was too late.

It's rough and fast and kind of happened in a blur, like everything didn't actually register to his just-waking-up numb mind. Gerard grunted, panted his name in his ear over and over as he moved. Cesc swore and almost screamed aloud as the rhythm got frantic. He climaxed before Gerard, seeds splattered all over the sheets, his stomach and his shirt. The spasm of his body affected Gerard that only a couple of thrusts more, he came.

As they lay panting, Gerard still on top of him and hadn't pulled away, a hundred questions ran through Cesc's mind, mostly starting with 'why'. Why did you do this? What about Lionel? What about Robin? Is it because you don't want to lose me? Do you think of me as more than just a friend? If so, why didn't you tell me, talk to me before? Why didn't you come sooner? Why didn't you fight for me before? Why let everything happen to an extent beyond repair? You said you want to fix us, Gerard, has it ever occurred to you that there are things that cannot be mended: broken relationship like shattered glasses?

Cesc felt something warm drop from the corner of his eyes. He didn't know what to do, he disgusted himself, he didn't think he liked Robin anymore and he hated Gerard who made him being like this even more: being this ruined fragment of bones, rotten chunk of flesh, worthless piece of shit, all of those irremediable, neither by Gerard nor anyone else,

Because it’s just too fucking late.

***

_'The Lyman series of hydrogen spectrum lies in what region?'_

Xabi stared at his phone and a lot of things ran through his mind at the same time. Mr. Anonymous. He'd already broken up with Mikel. Though with Mr. X they didn't have that kind of relationship, hell, they didn't have any kind of relationship at all but still they couldn't keep doing this. If whatever they had did make any senses, he didn't think he should give him any hope anymore when nothing was ever going to come of it. 'They' would never happen anyway when right now there's Steven Gerrard in the equation.

Xabi thought he should just tell Mr. X his decision, he should end this once and for all, whatever it was. He realized he might miss those texts a bit after this, those puzzles he used to wait for every day. They triggered his mind and excited his brain, but just only in the beginning. It's getting old quite fast, or maybe he lost interest in it just because Mr. X wasn’t Steven.

That simple.

And he should clear everything up before he made further move with Steven. He'd yet to ask the Scouser of course, but he thought it wouldn't be fair to anyone. He who hunts two hares leaves one and loses the other, and he even hunted three at first. He had been a selfish git long enough.

 _'Hey,'_ so he typed back. _'I don't know who u r but I appreciate everything u've done 2 me. So thank u.'_ He hit the message send, then, _'but we might have 2 stop this now.'_

He waited, five minutes then there popped a reply. _'Is this because of Arteta?'_

_'No, I broke up with Arteta.'_

_'Oh.' Then there's silence for quite a long time, before, 'u have a new boyfriend then.'_

Xabi felt guilty, but not by much. He'd prepared for this and he'd be honest to him though he didn't even know who he was. _'Kind of, yeah.'_

_'Don't u want 2 know who I am?'_

That question took the Basque off guard, his heart beat fast. Of course he wondered who Mr. X was, always, but it didn't matter anymore though it must be nice to know the answer to this unresolved enigma. _'I want 2, of course,'_ he replied.

_'Then we shall meet.'_

_'But u have to understand that this thing between us will have 2 end eventually. I'm so sorry but I can't keep on talking 2 u anymore.'_

_'So we have 1 more reason 2 meet up then, that's how we end this game perfectly. ;)'_

Xabi stared at the message and realized that it's true, this was the only way that they should end this play. If they didn't meet now, he would wonder for the rest of his life who Mr. X was and it'd remain the deepest mystery he'd never find out in this life.

 _'Same place, same time?'_ He typed.

 _'Perfect,'_ Mr. X typed back.


	20. Chapter 20

"Hey,"

"Hey," Victoria turned around as recognizing David's voice to find the English boy standing there, a bouquet of colorful flowers comprising of carnations, daisies and gerberas in his arm. "Oh, that's beautiful," she looked at it, curiosity in her eyes, "what happen?"

"Hmm, what do you mean 'what happen'?" David gave the bouquet to her and kissed her on the corner of her lips. "I want to give you flowers, does it need occasions?"

"Well, I'm just surprised, it'd never happened." She sniffed them. "Thank you anyway." Then kissed him on the lips as a thank you.

David smiled, though that smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He put his arm around Victoria's shoulder. "Let's go, what do you wanna eat today?"

They ate Nando's, and David was talkative than usual. He laughed a lot, more than half of it was fake, and when he didn't laugh or talk shit, his mind strayed to a far-away place beyond the grasp of reality. There were more than once that Victoria quirked her brow and looked at him suspiciously, so many times that David felt like she's about to say something but changed her mind. He knew Victoria found his behaviour a bit weird and he knew he's not quite himself, but he couldn't help because he didn't have Iker now, he'd lost him.

"And then Zinedine said he'd kick my ass across the English Channel if I ever joke about his hair again." David laughed aloud. "Come on, who couldn't joke about his hair?!"

"David, you know what? You should go," Victoria said to her plate. David was paralyzed.

"What?"

"You should go," the girl said slowly, raising her head so she could look David in the eyes. "You've never wanted to be here anyway."

"What do you mean?" He looked shocked and anxious. "Of course I want to be here."

"No, you don't," Victoria said. "It's not me that you've always wanted."

The English boy was thunderstruck, he argued feebly, "no, that's not-"

"You know what you want, David, even I can see through it from the start," Victoria said. "I've seen you struggling so hard, trying to live your life without him as normal as you could but it doesn't work out. In the end, you still need him, he's the only one who could make you sane, make you complete. I understand everything and I don't blame you, I'm not angry at you at all." She looked at him and David knew from the depth of her brown eyes that she meant it. "I know you like me, David, but somehow, we're not meant to be."

"What do you mean?" The British asked in a hushed voice, didn't want to accept the truth within his heart yet, still didn't want to let her go.

"You know what I mean, you've gotta follow your heart," Victoria got up. "And you know what? You should buy some roses to make up to him." She walked past him, leaving David sitting there like a stunned statue. Then she paused, turning around. "I wish you all the best, David."

David sat there staring at his plate, his mind blank and his heart numb.

***

Fernando walked up on the stage in the midst of welcoming applause after the host announced him the next musician and the music piece he’d perform. It's the School Music Festival Day before the Easter holiday and there were three pianists' performing this year: Sergio Canales, the new boy Alberto Moreno, and him. He'd play Yiruma's _‘River Flows In You’_.

The hall went quiet as he stationed at the grand piano, inhaling a big gulp of air before laying his fingers on the ivories.

It's four minutes of tranquility and Fernando truly appreciated that: no rambunctious electronic instruments, rowdy rhythm nor turbulent beat. The atmosphere was peaceful and also his mind, it's what he loved the most about playing piano: serenity. As the piece ended and he rose from his seat, grand applause roared all over the hall. The Spaniard bowed down to the audiences before getting to the backstage while the applause wore off and the MC announced that Moreno would play Giovanni Allevi's _‘Back To Life’_.

He walked past Agger and his friends, sans Raul, behind the curtain, they’re checking up their instruments. He nodded at the boys fleetingly, made eye contacts with Nicklas and Simon but never looked at Agger, or even Martin.

***

His arms hold a bouquet of flowers, white and red roses.

He stood in front of Iker's house, heart beat fast, Victoria's words echoed in his head: 'You know what you want, David, you should follow your heart.'

He took her advice and his feet took him here. The afternoon Madrid sunlight slanted on the bustling street like the lonesome star wanted to reach out to the children it had given lives to, like it wanted to be a part of the recreation happening on the world below. A group of noisy kids not older than ten years old ran past David, screaming and chasing after one another like having no cares in the world. A couple of ladies were gossiping while stroller walking their babies and a house nearby turned on Enrique Iglesias's ‘Escape’ (oh, please!) on the radio so loud that the whole neighborhood felt alive after having a siesta on a Saturday's sunny afternoon.

David took in a deep breath and walked over.

He'd been on Iker's doorsteps a hundred times before, he told himself to calm his soul as his heart drummed in his chest and his feet were looking for a chance to sprint away the moment his mind lapsed. He rang the bell.

It took too long for his liking until someone opened the door.

Iker's mom stood in front of him.

"Oh, David." The lady smiled at him, then her eyes shifted to the roses in his arm and she quirked her brow questioningly. David's heart almost broke out of his ribcage. "What are the flowers for?"

The Londoner found that he had no answer for this. "Umm, I want to ask Iker about something."

"Umm, yeah, he's upstairs." She made way for David to get inside, eyes still fixed on the bouquet curiously. Then she glanced up at him, looked down at the flowers again, then looked up at him one more time. She parted her lips like she was thinking about saying something but thinking better of it. "You can go up to his room," so she said.

David was grateful to her for not restraining him downstairs for interrogation and waited for Iker who'd never ever come down to fetch him. He walked up the stairs with cold feet, almost stumbled on a step once. He reached the hallway, stopped in front of Iker's room and knocked softly.

He heard the Spaniard get up and shuffle to the door. He held his breath even before it was opened. This time, it's Iker who stood there in front of him, wide-eyed and thunderstruck.

"Hi," David whispered.

***

"You should get out of my house."

Gerard was paralyzed, he'd just finished taking a shower and was putting on his t-shirt. Cesc was sitting on the edge of his bed, already dressed up and poker-faced.

"What?" Gerard didn't understand.

"I said you should go," Cesc looked at him, his countenance unreadable and Gerard found his heart drumming in his chest, with a bad feeling.

"Why?"

"Why not?" Cese raised his brow.

"Cesc." Inhaling deeply, Gerard walked over to where Cesc was sitting and put his hand on the other's shoulder. "What's wrong? If there's something I need to know, you have to tell me."

"I don't want to talk to you right now." Cesc didn't meet his eyes and Gerard's heart sank.

"Cesc-"

"I want you to leave me alone."

 

Robin called him, Cesc didn't pick up. He'd tried quite a couple of times more before giving up. Cesc skipped breakfast and instead just lay there in bed, staring at some dots in the air unbeknownst to others.

First, he'd lost his pet. In the middle of the melancholy, all he could think of was the distraction in the form of Gerard's arms and how they fit around his body, all he wanted in the moment of loss was Gerard's warm body to lean on providing him solace. He'd totally forgotten about Robin, his official boyfriend, who had loved him and been trying to be there for him. And Cesc just simply betrayed him. Then when he couldn't think Gerard could fuck with his heart even more than this, it's time for his body to be fucked by his best friend whom he'd trusted his entire life.

Fuck, his life's so messed up. He doesn't know what's going on, what does this all mean? Gerard just ditched the Barcelona trip with Lionel because he said he couldn't leave Cesc alone after all this shit. What does Gerard want? What does HE want?

More importantly: why now?

Gosh, he felt so fucked up right now.

His phone rang again and Cesc grunted, thinking it's Robin again. He grabbed his cell to look at the screen and found that it's Carles.

Thank God.

"Hola," Cesc said into the mics.

"Cesc," Carles' voice was a bit uncertain, "I heard you're back."

"Yes, I'm home."

"Umm, how's the trip?" Carles was testing the water, he could actually feel the probe.

"Not bad," Cesc grumbled.

"Umm, you know, Gerard told me about what happened..."

Cesc's eyes snapped wide. "He did what?!"

Carles' voice was suddenly nervous, "Well, he told me and I feel bad for you, I'm so sorry, Cesc."

"Is that all you could say?!" Cesc felt his anger flare, he sprang up, eyes hard on the drifting dust that the slanting late-morning sunlight through the cloudy window shone on. "Did you just sit listening to his conquest and simply feel sorry for me?! Didn't you call him down or something? His behaviour was atrocious, Carles! Appalling! To think that I used to trust him so much but now he did this to me!"

"Cesc, what conquest? And it's not his fault at all that everything ends this way, are you out of your fucking mind?! He'd tried his best and this was all he could do. He'd never meant it to be this way."

"The fuck he didn't mean it! He pushed my face onto my bed while forcing it into me, if that's not his strong-minded will then nothing is!"

Carles was silent on the other end of the line that at one moment he thought the line had been cut. "Cesc, what are you talking about?!" He asked faintly.

"What?!" Cesc was seething, "I'm talking about the barbaric behavior that he did to me last night, of course!"

Carles was silent again, then, "What did Gerard do to you last night?"

Oh, prick!

"Carles," Cesc's voice was uncertain, what the fuck? So Carles didn't know?! "I thought you told me Gerard told you." He felt nauseous.

"Gerard told me about what happened to your puppy." Cesc could feel that Carles was feeling unwell as well now as an unexpected truth revealed itself before his eyes, well, his ears, actually. "Cesc, what did Gerard do to you last night?" His voice tight and it felt like he'd made up his mind to prepare for the worst.

"Ummmm," Cesc didn't know what to say, he felt so embarrassed.

"Cesc," Carles' voice was serious, "did he rape you?"

"It's not rape, it's just..." He flushed crimson as realizing that this was also his fault, he let Gerard do it without fighting with all his life. This wasn't rape per se because after some feeble struggles, he partly consented to the other's peremptory vulgar request. It's not rape because actually he wanted it as much as Gerard.

"It's just what, Cesc?" Carles sounded restless. "You said 'he forced it into you', if that's not it then what is it?! And how did you guys end up doing it?! I thought you just came back from a happy couple foray with Robin and Gerard planned to go to Barcelona with Lionel, which I heard by the way that it's cancelled because of the incident of your dog which at first I was kind of wonder why would that be a part of the decision, but I understand it now. Actually I've understood it for so long even before you both got a grip of it, I just can't believe the truth would come out now, and in this outrageous style!"

Cesc swallowed hard, "What truth?"

Carles inhaled sharply. "Geez, both of you are such idiots. Stop hurting other people by making them substitutes and start on solely damaging one another instead from now on would benefit the world. If you want me to clarify it, I'm saying it now, starting with, you guys so deserve each other."

***

 **C:** Shit, if it's actually too late?!

 **Iker:** I told you..., what have you done then?

 **C:** I tried to make up to him, try to fix things but I've got carried away, though I knew he wanted it, too, and I knew he felt good when we did it, but in the morning after he just kicked me out. What the hell should I do?!

 **B:** Wait, you forced yourself on him?! That's not an ingenious move at all, my friend, I'm telling you. And I'm not saying about your literal moves, though, I don't think I'm in the position to comment on that.

 **Xabi:** I think you know the answer already, first thing first, you have to break up with Lionel.

 **C:** And then what? What if I break up with him and Cesc doesn't take me? I've fucked things up again, how do I make amends?

 **F:** You have to stop using Lionel as a substitute, Gerard. That's simply cruel. You have played him for too long and you know that it doesn't really work like you've hoped. The first right thing to do is to let people whom you have dragged in but aren't really involved in your fucked up so-called friendship go.

 **B:** Hey, who are you?!

 **F:** I'm Carles Puyol, nice meeting you all. Now let me finish my little speech, what I've said included Robin, do you hear me, Cesc?

Cesc grunted.

 **Xabi:** My two cents, you should try talking to him about your true feelings. Have you tried that move? He might be confused about what you really want and thought he couldn't trust you like he believed because he realized he couldn't read you. That's because you didn't speak all the truth to him.

 **B:** I agree, I think the best way to fix any broken relationship is a proper communication. But speaking from first experience, my relationship totally failed that. Though I second you to have a go at it, bring your intellect with you this time and don't fuck things up, also don't fuck anything until you're clear on both grounds about what you're doing, there are broken glasses that cannot be repaired if you don't do it right. And even if you do it right, you might find that there are some missing pieces that are lost to you forever.

 **Xabi:** That sounds really heartbroken. So everything's not quite alright on your front?

 **B:** I'm good, actually, and I feel like I've got myself back after it's been lost for quite some time. I understand now that if you love someone and you have to change yourself, then that's not love. To be able to love someone, you have to love yourself first, but if you've lost yourself and become what he likes you to be, then whom to love? That's just lust or infatuation or whatever. If you don't love yourself then who else is going to love you? To conclude, love in its purest form would create 'us' without destroying 'me'.

 **David:** Profound!

David applauded energetically. Iker grunted.

 **Iker:** My God, David, go away!

David smiled cunningly.

 **David:** Did you just call me your God, baby?

***

"Go away!" Iker tried to shut the door to David's face but the English boy swiftly put his foot in between the door and the frame.

"Ouch!" It fucking hurt when the Spaniard slammed the door. "Iker, that hurts!"

"It would hurt more if you don't back off because I'm gonna shut the door real hard next time," he threatened.

"Iker, come on, I bought roses for you, see?" He thrust the bouquet in front of Iker who now half-hid behind the door leaving only his eyes staring hatred at David.

"Get out with your roses, I don't want them!" He slammed the door again and this time David leaned his shoulder against the board, pushing it open with all his weight.

"Iker, listen up just for a second, Iker!" He's in a push of war with the Spaniard right now. "Victoria told me to buy these roses for you. Iker, she and I have broken up!"

Frozen to the spot, Iker halted his slamming business immediately. "She told you?!" His voice was incredulous. "Why?"

"Well," the colour of David's cheek reddened, "I guess she knows me better than I do."

Iker looked at him confusedly. "Which means?"

"Umm, it means that she knows I don't love her." He stared at the flowers then looked up at Iker. "And made me realize that the only one I've ever loved is you."

***

Fernando was with Sergio, drinking Virgin Mojito when Agger's band performed.

They performed the song he used to practice with them, _‘I Want To Know Your Plans’_ by Say Anything. The blonde didn't look up but kept sipping his drinks and talking to Sergio. The crowd danced and sang along loudly and Fernando feigned ignorance to the whole world. The first song ended and Simon greeted the audience, introducing himself then other band members took turn, all the while was accompanied by teenage girls' high-pitched screams. He noticed that the cheer after Agger's introduction was one of the loudest, almost as loud as Simon himself.

Foo Fighter's _‘The Pretender’_ was played, then another song he couldn't remember the name and also didn't have a chance to practice. After that song, their time was up but the audience's shouts for encore was deafening.

"Gosh, all these chicks. Why do they have to be so loud and high-pitched?" Sergio grunted into his drink.

The scream was even louder. Fernando didn't know why because he didn't look up from Sergio and his Virgin Mojito and he didn't actually care to know. It wasn't until the cheers abruptly died down and a voice spoke into the mics that the blonde found his heart suddenly beating fast.

It's Agger's voice, he recognized that immediately.

"I practically have to beg my friends to give me this chance for the encore," he said and the girls screamed. "Well, this might not be the encore that you all expect because I'm going to solo it." To Fernando's surprise, the screams were louder. Sergio nudged him with an elbow.

"Well, well, well, isn't that thug a heartthrob? Geez, these stupid girls have such a low taste and never learned to avoid boys who are nothing but troubles."

Fernando choked on his drink, didn't dare making eye contact with Sergio.

"This song, well, I would like to dedicate to someone. You know who you are." Murmurs broke out all over the hall about the secret identity of that 'someone', but they died down as soon as they started since Agger had already strummed his guitar, a Spanish guitar - Fernando realized when he finally glanced up at the stage - to his surprise, again. "This is _'All Out of Love'_."

Fernando stared at him.

Agger started with a slow melody and soft rhythm so unlike himself. Fernando couldn't take his eyes off him: those awkward miens he remembered the Dane always exhibited when he played an acoustic guitar, so in contrast with his personality which suited the electric guitar better: wild, insolent, rebellious, and strumming to an Air Supply's song to top it all off. What a sappy song, by the way.

Well, he hadn't seen anything yet, not until Agger parted his lips and sang:

_'I'm lying alone with my head on the phone_   
_Thinking of you till it hurts_   
_I know you hurt too but what else can we do_   
_Tormented and torn apart'_

It's the first time Fernando had heard the Dane sing, ever, in his full-volume voice and not just all the whisperings. He's rooted to the spot, seemed almost in shock. Suddenly he's afraid of who that 'someone' might be. To whom is Agger dedicating this song? He doesn't want to flatter himself so he tried not to think that it could be him. It'd been more than three months, of awkwardness and estrangement, there were a hundred reasons that 'someone' wouldn't be him, that Agger might have already found someone else. Scary enough that that thought made his heart constrict in his chest, long time ago might it seems and already forget him might he thinks.

Agger kept singing, and his voice was beautiful that Fernando was surprised why he'd never sung more often before.

_'I wish I could carry your smile in my heart_   
_For times when my life seems so low_   
_It would make me believe what tomorrow could bring_   
_When today doesn't really know, doesn't really know'_

Agger's eyes scanned the room as he sang and Fernando realized he's looking for someone. His heart beat faster, he wanted to run away but he's simply paralyzed. He's scared, and at the moment he realized he wasn't afraid that the Dane might find him eventually, he's afraid that he might pick someone else rather than him.

And with that, something clicked, like a puzzle that finally fell into place. At that moment those fierce brown eyes found him in the crowd, and they stared at one another, couldn't look away.

_'I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you_   
_I know you were right, believing for so long_   
_I'm all out of love, what am I without you_   
_I can't be too late to say that I was so wrong'_

Fernando flushed crimson. Well, that's beyond his expectation of their reconciliation. Agger did apologize to him, playing an acoustic guitar and actually singing on stage, in front of hundreds of people.

He actually said it.

After all this time, eventually you speak your mind...

_'And what would you say if I called on you now_   
_And said that I can't hold on?_   
_There's no easy way, it gets harder each day_   
_Please love me or I'll be gone, I'll be gone'_

I wish you mean it, though...

_'I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you_   
_I know you were right, believing for so long_   
_I'm all out of love, what am I without you_   
_I can't be too late to say I was so wrong'_

***

Xabi's heart beat to the rhythm of the Basque folk dance. He walked to the meeting point of which they had arranged a long time ago but they had never got through the encounter. So this was the perfect rounding off of their story, so they could end it properly without unfinished matters of heart. It's three minutes to four o'clock and Xabi's walk was half-hurry, half-restrained that the gaits looked weirdly robotic. He couldn't breathe properly. If Mr.X wasn't Mikel, then who could he be?

Xabi slowed the pace as he neared the corner of the gymnasium, the spot where a few months ago Mikel accosted him and the table turned. The Basque turned around to check had anyone followed him, but there's nobody in his wake. Everyone in sight seemed to tend to their business, being starting their sporty exercises with their friends on a normal after-school evening.

Xabi looked around one more time, to make sure that no one would appear to interrupt the meeting like last time as well as to brace himself for whatever was going to come.

He took in a deep breath then stepped around the corner.

There's someone there already, standing with his back to him and Xabi was surprised, not with his presence anyway but with his stance. There's something so familiar about it, very familiar that Xabi's heart beat even faster. He knew this bearing, this particular boy, and his mind was full of unanswerable questions of hows and whys. When the other heard the shuffle on the yard, he turned around.

Xabi knew it's coming even before the words tumbled out of Steven Gerrard's smiling mouth.

"Hello, there."


	21. Chapter 21

"Steven," Xabi stared, couldn't believe his own eyes but at the same time he’s so relieved that the mystery unveiled this way, though the excitement of seeing the Scouser couldn't diminish the prominent suspicion from growing in his mind.

"Xabi," Steven stood with arms wide open, "that you're speechless is because you're disappointed, or just shocked?"

The Basque couldn't take his eyes off him, he swallowed hard. "How?"

"Long story." He put his hands in his pockets, narrowing his eyes. "You don't seem much elated seeing me show up. Did you actually expect someone else?" His insecurity breached.

"No, it's just...very unforeseen." Xabi stepped closer, then halted. "You owe me long story of explanation, Stevie." And he smiled.

"I plan to do that during our dinner date." The Scouser held out his hand. Xabi stepped closer, but instead of taking it properly, he pulled Steven towards him, smashing their lips together fiercely.

To say that Steven's surprised wasn't quite true, he actually half-expected it, but his eyes went wide nonetheless because from the look of shock on Xabi's face earlier, he didn't think they'd reach this stage this fast.

Closing his eyes, the Scouser put a hand on the small of Xabi's back, the other on his nape and pulled him even closer until their bodies crushed, flat, hard and warm against each other.

Xabi pulled away after a minute, panting against the other boy's lips, his fingers raked through Steven's hair as saying, "God, you have no idea how happy I am that it's you."

***

Agger found him while he's walking with Sergio outside the hall after the band performance had finished.

"Can we talk?"

The blonde's heart raced in his chest. Well, that's a nice move, he'd never asked Fernando about anything nicely before. The true-to-form Agger would've come up with something like 'we need to talk', that's the softest form Fernando could think of. If asked, he'd say Agger in front of him now was possessed.

Sergio looked at him disbelievingly. "Thug, what do you want?"

Glaring back, Agger sneered, "None of your business, horse-face."

"Hey-"

"Please don't, Sergio, Agger," Fernando put his hand on Sergio's shoulder and cut off his friend about-to threat. "And you should talk nicely to him, Agger. Sergio is my friend after all."

This time the Dane stared at him, the blonde stared back poker-faced. Seeing that he should just acquiesce if he wanted to proceed on having conversation with Fernando alone after all, he turned back to the horse-face. "Alright, I'm sorry."

Sergio stared at him, jaw dropped. Honestly, Fernando was as startled as he was though he actually half-expected it. "Okay," he cleared his throat and told himself to concentrate, "what do you want?"

"I want to talk to you, of course." He shuffled anxiously and though his countenance betrayed nothing, Fernando knew this conversation affected him. Saying nice things was so out of his character. He softened suddenly as realizing how much guts Agger had to have to pull this.

It must cost him greatly.

"Sure," the blonde said and Sergio turned to stare at him. Fernando stared back and in his eyes there's something like a warning that made Sergio shrink back and seal his lips shut. Fernando turned to nod at the Dane and stalked away, leaving Sergio behind. He didn't turn around but he knew, and heard, Agger follow him.

"You heard the song," Agger said from behind him, they still kept walking. There weren’t many people about here.

"What song?" The Spaniard turned his head to asked, feigned ignorance and still didn't stop.

Agger gnarled. "Come on, I did overdo it!"

"You overdid it?!" Fernando whirled around. "Honestly, after all those months, all you could think of was an Air Supply's song?"

"Fernando, you're the one who's never given me any chance!" He shouted. "I tried to talk to you but you'd never even opened up your door!"

"Because all of this is not my fault!" He started to shout, too, feeling all eyes on them from all around. "And I know it'd have been the same anyway, and I don't want 'the same'!"

"No, it's not," the Dane murmured. He looked at the grass underneath his feet and rubbed his face. "I guess I understand it now. I won't force you anymore, and since the Music Festival is past, so...," Fernando stared at him in disbelief.

"Seriously, Agger," Fernando crossed his arms, looking at him coolly. "I'm waiting, you know?"

Agger stared at him, then realized what Fernando wanted. "For Christ's sake!" He rubbed his eyes tiredly with the heel of his hand then ruffled his short hair frustratingly, he didn't look the blonde in the eyes. "If you wanna hear it that much, fine, I apologize, alright?!" He snarled. Fernando quirked his brow up in surprise, well, he actually could talk nicely after all.

He'd never known Agger could be harnessed this way, and he's starting to have fun with this new knowledge.

"And?" Raising his brow, he still acted nonchalant, waiting for more. That's part of what he wanted to hear from Agger's lips but not all of it. The Dane looked at him incredulously.

"Fine!" He grunted, scratching his nape irritatingly, eyes strayed to the grass again. "I love you. Is that what you want to hear?"

The Spaniard's heart danced to the samba beat. "Say it again," he blurted out. Agger looked up.

"What?"

"Say it again," Fernando walked up to him until they're in front of each other, only a few inches apart. "I wanna hear that again," he nagged, smiling beatifically.

"Jesus." The Dane looked at him amusedly, the annoyance if it’s ever there before dissipated immediately. He put his hand on the Spaniard's waist. "Just this once, and I'd never give in again." Fernando nodded, smiling wide elatedly.

Agger looked at him, something flickered in his eyes. "Gosh, you're beautiful," he whispered then leaned in, whispering, "I love you, and I've been so lost without you."

Closing the distance between them, their lips met and the blonde felt the sparks of wet and warmth and the tingling feeling of something that he wanted to call it 'love'. He smiled happily as the Dane murmured against his mouth, "baby, please love me, or I'll be gone."

***

"Time to spill."

They ended up at a restaurant near Xabi's house. The Basque used his fork to pick at cherry tomatoes in a bowl of chicken salad he ordered for starters, feeling nervous like this was their first date.

Steven sliced a prawn into a small bite and held his fork to Xabi. The Basque took it in his mouth. "What do you wanna know?" asked the British, smiling at the corner of his mouth.

He swallowed. "How could you get into my school and hang breakfast on my locker every day before?" That's the most baffling part, Steven studied at another school and Xabi didn't recall seeing him in Sagrado Corazon before. How could that be?

Steven smirked. "Well, that wasn't me, technically."

"What?" The Spaniard stared at him, very confused now. What does that mean that that wasn't Steven. If he's not the one who prepared him breakfast every morning, is there somebody else still?

There was starting to be one too many.

"It's me, but at the same time it's not me. I asked someone to do it for me."

Xabi kept staring. "Who would that be?"

"Do you know Jamie Carragher?"

"Carragher, the exchange student?" The Basque was about to retaliate with a question based on the answer to the previous question when the realization dawned. "Oh, right, he's from England!"

"He's from Liverpool." Steven took a sip of his drink. "He's my friend."

"You know him before you came here?"

"I know him all my life."

Jamie Carragher was an English exchange student in his year but in a different class. He'd never actually talked to him and he'd never crossed his mind as outstanding or anything before.

If he's really the one who played the breakfast game with him every morning for months, he'd never acted strange or given Xabi enough reason to suspect or even notice him. He's definitely one real performer and deserved a standing ovation.

Main courses arrived, Xabi's was Marmitako while Steven opted for something familiar and non-fancy like a sirloin steak.

"Why did you do it?" asked the Spaniard as he sliced the tuna with a bit of pique.

"When I realized I got to exchange in Madrid, I felt so excited." He stroked his glass, gathering droplets of cool water on the tip of his finger. "I didn't tell you because I wanted to surprise you. I remembered that you studied at Sagrado Corazon but I didn't know whether you're still there. Then Jamie told me that he'd be exchanged in Madrid, too.

"We both felt very excited, and he said he'd be attending Sagrado Corazon. I was shocked and felt really jealous, because if you're there, he'd be able to see you but I didn't. My host family informed me that I'd be attending Fomento el Prado so I googled and found that the two schools were very close. But they have their own kids attending this school and both schools were kind of rivals so I didn't state my desire of changing school." He shrugged, cutting his steak.

"So I told him about you and he promised to look for you for me. When he got to school, he asked his friends in class, and they told him that yes, there's one Xabi Alonso.

"He sneakily snapped pictures of you for me to make sure that we're talking about the same person, and yes, we were. Jamie asked his friend about you and found that you're the number one student of their year. You aced every class especially sciences and have the highest opportunity of getting scholarships from the best universities. They told him that there're boys and girls trying to ask you out but you weren't really interested in people who had lower intellects than yourself. They told Jamie that if he didn't want to be dumped, he'd better upgraded his brain." Steven smirked, putting the beef in his mouth.

"Jamie told me this and asked me whether I was sure that you're really into me before. To be honest, I'm not sure, it's a long time ago and we're still young. We did manage a couple of kisses but nothing more. You might have changed and we hadn't been keeping contact for a while then so I was a bit unconfident about all this all of a sudden. I still think of you but if we couldn't be together, I didn't want to keep dreaming on, though I applied for an exchange program to Spain and requested to be sent to Madrid because all I'd ever wanted was to see you again.

"So something came up in my mind. Jamie got me your phone number. Well, remind me to treat him some pricey meals after this because I owe him loads and I don't think he's ever wanted anything more than food. Then, because I didn't want to use my number just in case, Jamie was the one who sent all those texts to you."

Xabi's jaw dropped. "Jesus, how many meals do you have to treat him?"

"I don't know." Steven laughed. "But he's having fun with it, you know? He loves playing games, pulling pranks. And he knew you'd be looking for the culprit around the school so mostly he stayed out of your way so that you'd never notice him in case he slipped up. He also didn't want to give you the wrong impression if you ever noticed something suspicious about him because he's not the one who's really obsessed with you anyway. As far as I know, he's really good at playing hiding with you so far, so good that you channeled all your suspicion to somebody else."

"Mikel," Xabi murmured.

"Yes, well, we didn't know that until that day that he eventually confronted you when you're supposed to come for me."

"So you're there that day? Behind the gym?"

"Of course, I was there, it's meant to be a surprise." Steven grimaced. "But the table did turn."

"But why all those riddles?" Xabi's still incredulous about all these schemes.

"I didn't want to come to you with bare hands since Jamie said that you didn't take a second glance at who wasn't on a par with your intellectual level, I guessed I wanted to prove it to you that I'm not the same Steven whom you used to make light of, that I've improved and is now worth to be with you-"

"Steven, what are you talking about?! I've never made light of you!"

"Well, it might just be my inferiority complex." He shrugged. "You were so brilliant, Xabi, I still remember that summer clearly and I couldn't bring myself around to think why someone like me was worth to you. I'm insecure so I guess I'm trying to put some values in myself. So I came up with that game. I'd send scientific questions to Jamie everyday so that he could send them to you, and he would receive your answers and send them to me to ask if they’re correct and I'd send answers back to him. We worked as a team. This included other chats we had, I'd be the one who dictated him to text."

"And he brought breakfasts to me every morning?"

"Yeah, he did that." Steven smiled. "I forced him to."

"But after that Mikel incident, you stopped texting me. Why?"

"You seemed to believe that Mikel was me, so I let that be for a while, to observe what your relationship would be like. You could say that I'm just curious though I did pray that you didn't fall in love with him for real." He laughed. "And it seemed like that bloke Mikel couldn't reach your standard as well as others. You got bored with him fast, even Jamie could tell. So it's time for me to dive in again.

"I could actually tell you're excited with my texts until I showed up in-person that day at the mall."

"So that's your plan?!" Xabi looked at him incredulously. "You planted your wallet there! You intended me to find you!"

"No, actually not." Steven scratched the back of his head. "I'd never intended it to be that way. My plan was to keep Jamie texting you until I revealed myself not long afterwards. But that day, I was at the mall, and you happened to walk up to sit beside me.

"I was petrified when I found out that it's you who sat there, seriously. I'm afraid that you'd recognize me and all my plans were ruined, so I hurriedly left."

"But your plan was ruined anyway because you accidentally dropped your wallet and I found out that you're in Spain," the Basque pointed out.

"Pretty much, yeah." He laughed. "At first, I'm not sure where I dropped it so I just hoped in vain that it wasn't you who would bring it to me. Fat chance." He smiled genuinely. "I didn't know what your reaction would be. Would you still be interested in me, a boy whom you used to kind of date three years ago-"

"Of course, I'm interested." Xabi's cheeks reddened.

"Well, I realized that, too." His smile brightened and it lit up the dim restaurant in the midst of winter, or actually, the whole Madrid. "So I changed tack immediately. I made up stories so that you wouldn't be suspicious why I had never contacted you. I'd been in Spain for months, though."

"You know what?" He put down his fork irritatingly. "That truly got on my nerves, I thought you'd forgotten all about me, that I'm not important to you anymore."

"I'm sorry, Xabi," Steven actually looked repentant. He looked Xabi in the eyes, so intense he almost melted.

But not yet. "All of these because of your ridiculous plan."

The Scouser sat back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. "So, all of those I'm-trying-to-prove-myself-that-I'm-worth-to-you-more-than-anyone-else never mean anything to you?"

"No." The Spaniard bit his lip, straying his eyes to his plate. "I wouldn't fucking care anyway."

There's a pregnant silence between them for a couple of seconds.

"Actually, I know," Steven reached for Xabi's hand on the table, warm palm covering it. "I know the moment you dropped everything to come with me, over and over. And after that, you'd never cared about the texts Jamie sent you anymore." He lifted his hand for the Basque's cheek this time, caressing it. "I'd been trying to be whom I thought you might want me to be, someone clever who's worth to be with you. But I stopped it now, after some time, I realized that I couldn't be that someone. I wasn't the one I pretended, no matter how hard I tried. I'm not ingenious like you, Xabi, I'm just a normal Steven. Would you love someone as ordinary as me?"

"Of course, you idiot, why would I be here with you otherwise?"

"So this isn't about someone who could contend with your brain?"

"It never is." Xabi looked him in the eyes then slightly inclined his head to bit Steven's palm softly.

The Scouser's breath caught.

"Let's go to your home, shall we?" His voice's husky.

"My home?" Xabi looked shyly at him, all pretentious. "My home is where my heart is, anywhere with you would be home."

Steven laughed. "That’s very sweet of you. But let's actually go to your home, babe. I don't think people here would like to see us making out."

"If you hadn't gone so far with your idiotic scheme for ages, you'd have had done that long time ago," nagged Xabi.

***

_'We need to talk.'_

_'Yeah, I guess so.'_

_'Your place?'_

_'No, let's meet somewhere else.'_

Cesc was sitting in a corner of a tapas bar, sipping his soda as Gerard walked in. The taller boy looked around until he found Cesc, his lips pressed before he stalked over.

Cesc didn't even look up.

"Hey," Gerard greeted, dragging the chair opposite Cesc out to sit.

Cesc simply glanced up a bit. "Hey," he said in a low voice.

There's a stretched silence between them, a long one. Then Gerard broke it uncertainly, "umm, are you alright?"

Cese looked up at him, eyes hard-cold. "Do I look like I'm alright?" He spat. Gerard stiffened.

"Umm, listen. I'm sorry," he mumbled, eyes on the table.

"What for?" Cesc's voice burned like acid. He looked like he could corrode Gerard to the bones, too.

Gerard felt his heart go numb. "Err, for what I did yesterday," he mumbled. "Were you hurt?"

"Yesterday? No, I wasn't." Cesc stared at him and Gerard felt relieved, but only until the next sentence, "not more than I've always felt anyway."

Gerard's heart beat faster nervously. "What do you mean?"

Cesc glared at him incredulously. "You really don't know what I mean?" His voice sharp, once again. "My pain has been so obvious but you pretended you didn't see. Tell me, Gerard, why didn't you show me how much did it also hurt you before?"

"What?" Gerard looked confused. "Cesc, what are you on about?"

"Why did you let everything go out of its way this far?" Cesc stared at him, tears in his eyes and at that moment Gerard realized what the hell Cesc's talking about. He collapsed in his chair, hands running over his face with dread, especially to the next question, "why have you never told me before how you really feel about me?"

They stared at each other and Gerard looked away. It's always Gerard who looked away first because he's afraid that the truth in his eyes would give everything away.

"I didn't want to ruin our friendship," it took a long time before Gerard came out with this, "I thought if I told you, it would destroy us."

"And you decided this is the perfect time to destroy us," Cesc said emotionlessly.

"Yes. No. Fuck." Gerard squeezed his temples then rubbed his face. "I really want this to work out but seriously I don't know how," he confessed.

"How about by the most civil method mankind has ever invented called 'talking'?" Cesc sneered. "It would've been better than raping me, you know?"

Gerard flushed. "Listen, I'm very sorry about yesterday. It'd been pent up in my system for ages and I suddenly couldn't stand to think what Robin might have done to you in Amsterdam."

"And why haven't you said anything before?"

"I told you I didn't want to ruin us. So I hid my feelings, for all this time that you're with those girlfriends of yours. I thought you didn't like boys so I'd never tried, and I could live with that, keeping you in ignorance of my feelings forever. But then one day you came up with Robin." He paused to breathe in deeply. "Then the wall I’d built around that feelings towards you started crumbling down and I kept asking myself why, why I'd never given myself a chance to tell you how I feel.

"It's almost unbearable, the feeling that I'd let you slip away that way. I hate Robin for having the guts to approach you, for having you. I used Lionel as the substitute for you before, I thought he'd be able to make me forget you one day, but that intention was totally obliterated once I realized what I want with you could happen actually."

"This is so fucked up," Cesc groaned, holding his head in his hand. "Why did we like to assume instead of actually trying?"

"'We'?" Gerard raised his brow, confused.

"Yes, 'we'." Cesc looked up, staring at Gerard in the eyes. "I didn't understand myself before that's why I'd been with girls. But then one day I realized I like a boy, and a particular boy at that." They looked at one another, let the pregnant silence speak for itself. Gerard found his heart beating real fast. He's about to break the silence but Cesc beat him to it. "Fuck, why didn't we just give it a try before. Why had we never fought for it?!"

Gerard had nothing to say to that. "So we both gave it up even before trying," Cesc was still rambling.

"We did give love up," Gerard mumbled. "We'd never used that most civil method mankind has ever invented that you said. Instead, I used puppies as subjects of love experiment, I made them fall in love then tear them apart. I tortured them the way I was tortured. I used Lionel as your substitute, and then I forced myself on you. Fuck, I'm monstrous."

"You're beyond low," Cesc deadpanned. "Speaking of Lionel, how's he?"

"We broke up," answered Gerard.

"That's fast, though," said Cesc, didn't seem much surprised. He didn't think anything could surprise him more at the moment. "Was it because you cancelled the trip?"

"Part of." Gerard shrugged. "It wouldn't have worked out and we both knew it. Well, Lionel knew, anyway. He's the one who wanted to separate."

"Really? What did he say?"

"I told him we needed to cancel the trip. He said okay and that he guessed he wouldn't want to see me again." He shrugged. "I knew I'm terrible so I apologized to him for everything. He forgave me, though, and asked me whether I'd loved you all along." He coughed, cheeks flushed. "I said yes, and he said he kind of knew it."

"I guess it's down to us again who the biggest fools are." Cesc stirred the drink with a straw. "Lionel knows it, Carles knows it. I wonder does Robin know it, too."

"Carles knows this?"

"Yeah, he told me all about his speculation, which I have to say is quite correct."

"Speculation about what, exactly?"

"Us, of course." He sipped his drink. "Are you gonna order something?" He gestured at the menu on the table.

Cesc's Gambas al Ajillo arrived and Gerard ordered his pork stew, the waitress had been eyeing them for ages.

"When did that happen?" Gerard asked as the waitress was gone. "The talk with Carles, I mean."

"Well, he called me yesterday after you'd left."

"Oh," Gerard sipped his soda which had just arrived, an act to avoid looking at Cesc though his cheeks flushed in embarrassment and the other noticed, "really?"

"Yeah, and I told him what happened." Gerard choked.

"You did what?!"

"Well, there were some misunderstandings and I accidentally spilled." He shrugged. "So he told us off for being idiots for so long, for not knowing what we really wanted, or rather, knowing but never acting on it."

"What should we do then?"

"First of all, I think I have to get Robin out of this mess, like Carles said." He bit his lip. Gerard found his heart drumming in his chest.

"Okay."

"About you, and me." He looked at Gerard. "I don't know whether we'd be able to make things between us work, I don't know if it's too late to start this now instead of years ago. We'd been so good at fucking things up for longer than we thought.

"But this is the first real conversation we've had, no surrogate or insinuation we both didn't really understand why we had to use, so I guess it's not a very bad new start." Cesc smiled and Gerard smiled along with him. This wasn't as bad as he thought.

"Since it's kind of difficult to maintain relationships which were not with one another, why don't we try having relationship with one another instead?" Cesc blushed crimson and bent down to stuff the shrimp in his mouth.

"We should just start this thing we always have for each other all along at last," Gerard said, smiling. "It wouldn't hurt more than this if it wouldn't work out as we thought, though. I guess nothing could hurt more than this, we'd already lived through the toughest part."

"Don't go back on your words when you live through the part where I'm pissed at you," Cesc smirked.

"No, even if it's that part, nothing could compare with what I've been through," he reminisced. "It's been four years, Cesc."

"Four, seriously?" Cesc's arms crossed, he raised his brow mockingly. "I thought it's from the start."

***

Steven shoved the Spaniard until his back hit the wall. Xabi grunted but his sound couldn't be heard for more than a split second because the Scouser had already covered his lips with his.

It's a long and passionate kiss that the Basque eventually had to pull away because of the lack of air. "We can't make sounds," he panted against the other boy's lips, "my parents would be suspicious."

"Okay," though Steven didn't sound like he actually cared as he kissed down the Spaniard's jaw line.

Xabi tugged the other boy's belt, well, he had no intention of stopping whatsoever that they're doing, they'd just have to be very quiet. "Take off your clothes," he whispered huskily, his cheeks went pink with his own boldness for saying such things.

Steven smirked, pulling out a bit so that he could take off Xabi's shirt. The Basque caught the buttons on the Scouser's shirt then stripped him, too, fast. Steven dove for his lips again as soon as he pushed Xabi's shirt off his shoulder. Xabi's hand shot down to the Scouser's groin, cupping the growing erection.

"God, Xabi," moaning into the kiss, Steven arched into the touch. Xabi hurriedly fumbled with his belt then put his hand inside unceremoniously.

"We should go to bed," Steven panted but deepened the kiss further.

"Should we?" Ask the Spaniard shakily.

"I think so." He bucked up against Xabi's palm and let out a soft moan of pleasure. "Have you done this before?"

"No." The Basque pushed Steven's jeans and boxers down with his other hand so that he could have a full access to his cock. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do."

"Fuck!" Steven bucked up harder, he almost lost control of himself. Xabi's hand on every surface of his full-erected member was just too much. "You're doing fucking great. We should-fuck, I don't know. I've never done it before, either."

"You haven't?" Xabi panted, hand still working madly on Steven's cock, he pulled the foreskin hard but pushed down slowly, the torturing rhythm was faster every second and Steven let out a cry. "Do you want to fuck me, Steven?" The Basque whispered in his ear.

"Fuck, yes!" Steven cried. Xabi's free hand caught Steven's and drew it to his own crotch. The Scouser grabbed it hard like his life depended on it, Xabi gasped. "Fuck, you're hard."

The Spaniard's cheeks heated up, feeling a bit bashful but tried to play it cool. "What's so surprising about that?" He kept stroking Steven's cock while the other fumbled with his belt and jeans. He tilted his head up and closed his eyes, let his skin be the only recipient of sense.

"How do we do it?" Steven asked uncertainly as he stripped the Basque's bottom away. Xabi opened his eyes.

"The way you feel it, I guess." He leaned in to catch the British's bottom lip with his teeth. "We should really go to bed," he whispered. Steven didn't wait for another comment, he grabbed Xabi's wrist and pulled him to bed, threw him down on his back and covered him immediately. Their naked erections brushed sending both of them gasp aloud.

"Jesus," Steven's brows furrowed as he moved slowly but the sensation was just too much. He looked at Xabi and the other stared back at him, sweats sprouting on his forehead. The Scouser leaned down to capture a droplet of sweat with his tongue then kissed down his temple to his cheek. "I don't think I can even last much longer," he confessed.

"S'okay," Xabi closed his eyes again, hands raking through Steven's short hair. It felt almost surreal, this whole situation: Steven's flat skin against his, the heat that radiating off his body, his odor. Xabi's knowledge of how two guys actually do it was as limited as Steven's, but he's certain they can learn this along the way together. He'd make sure Steven wouldn't feel unconfident because he'd let him lead, he'd let him do whatever he wanted, but maybe with just a bit of push...

"You know what?" Xabi whispered in the Scouser's ear, "I guess it'd feel really good if you come inside me."

Unfortunately, Steven immediately came.

****

Fernando stepped into the Agger's house where he hadn't been for more than three months. Mrs. Agger was very surprised.

"Fernando, nice seeing you here again!" She greeted and hugged him hard. "I've been telling Danny to invite you over but he never complied."

"The one who didn't even give me a chance for an invitation was him, mom." Agger raised a brow in Fernando's direction, challenging him to contradict the statement. The blonde blushed.

"Hmm, why?" She pulled away from the Spanish boy.

"I've been quite busy," Fernando lied anxiously. "But I'll come more often from now on," he hurriedly added.

"That's good! We've missed you." She hugged him again.

"Mom, let go of him already," Agger snarled.

"Why? You can't hog all of him to yourself, Danny." Fernando blushed but Agger simply raised another brow, amused.

"Come on!" He jumped up the stairs two at a time. The noise was so loud that Mrs. Agger shouted after him,

"Daniel, climb the stairs like normal people do!"

Fernando followed him into the room to find the Dane clearing all the garbage from the lower bunk-bed where the blonde used to sleep.

"I can sit here, no need to throw all your hoarding away." He walked over to the familiar couch.

"Just in case," Agger said, and the Spaniard blushed, feeling nervous all of a sudden. He pulled his legs up and hugged his knees, looking around for something to do. He'd never felt this nervous in this room before even comparing to the first time he's in here.

Having cleaned the bed, the Dane walked over to grab his Spanish guitar. "I just dedicated to you a song confessing my feelings." He strummed it, smirked. "Don't you think you should play something for me, too?"

Fernando glowered at him. "No."

"I'll give you one minute to think of something to play for me," said Agger, his same old controlling streak took the harness full-force again. Fernando stiffened.

"You know what?" He turned around, narrowing his eyes. "I haven't completely forgiven you, you know?"

"What again now?" Agger's brow furrowed. "I've said everything you wanted to hear in the past hours." Then he paused, like he suddenly came up with an idea, "or you want to hear more?"

"Yes. No. Well, what do you offer?" Fernando opted for anything at all that would relieve him from the impending confession he'd have to give though the Dane's narrowed eyes and evil smirk right now looked nothing but predatory. Agger smiled indulgently though he knew well that the Spaniard was just stalling for time. He'd just sung 'All Out of Love', apologized to him and then confessed his love, he might just as well get this over with. This is a special promotion for today only, though. After tomorrow we'll see who the real boss is.

"Well, I've been practicing this song, too, if you wanna hear, that is." He strummed the guitar.

"What song?" asked the blonde but Agger didn't answer. He started playing the intro and Fernando recognized it immediately. As far as he knew, there's none like it.

It's Paul Anka's _'I Don't Like to Sleep Alone'_.

Fucking hell.

And Agger sang, just like on stage, he did sing the whole lyrics along.

 _'I don't like to sleep alone_  
_Stay with me, don't go_  
_Talk with me for just a while_  
_So much of you to get to know'_

They stared at each other and Fernando's speechless, frozen to the spot just next to the Dane.

 _'Reaching out touching you_  
_Leaving all the worries far behind_  
_Loving you the way I do_  
_My mouth on yours and yours on mine'_

Fernando had the grace to blush, and the next sentence...,

 _'Marry me, let me live with you_  
_Nothing's wrong and love is right'_

Well, Agger also had the guts to sing that part. His eyes twinkled and he's having too much fun looking at the blonde's reaction.

 _'No, I don't like to sleep alone_  
_It's sad to think some folks do_  
_No, I don't like to sleep alone_  
_No one does, do you?'_

As bringing the song to a close, he looked Fernando in the eyes, apparently waiting for comments.

"Well," the Spaniard cleared his throat, eyes strayed to the floor, "I hope you don't actually mean the marry part," he joked shyly. The Dane laughed.

"And if I do?" Agger wiggled his brow tantalizingly. Fernando flushed crimson.

"No, you don't!"

"We'll see." The Dane caught his wrists so he couldn't fight and leaned in to kiss him softly on the lips. "You'll stay over, won't you?" He smiled against the Spaniard's lips.

"You bet!" Fernando snarled.

 _'No, I don't like to sleep alone_  
_It's sad to think some folks do_  
_No, I don't like to sleep alone_  
_No one does, do you?'_

***

"I told you the other one was nicer."

They're strolling along Plaza Conde de Barajas. On a bright summer Sunday like this, there's a paintings flea market. David had just purchased a painting, oil on canvas, a picture of Gran Via, as per the artist's words, because apparently Iker couldn't really make it out as Gran Via, this was one abstract piece of art.

David's totally in love with it, he seemed to be quite into abstraction lately and Iker really didn't understand this obsession. David had never shown an interest in arts before even when they'd been strolling along the aisles of all the art museums in Madrid together. He didn't understand where this craze suddenly came from. Last week he bought an abstract painting from this same flea market, the painter claimed it's a picture of a Spanish young niño, which required Iker to do a 180 degrees vertical rotation to appreciate the art. He couldn't recognize the boy's head or body still, but at least he saw the hands and feet which was quite a progress anyway. But fine arts took time to appreciate so he didn't feel offended when David said he'd hang it on the wall above his headboard and Iker could be in his bed to decipher it anytime he wanted. All in all, Iker found he loved it that David seemed to have such a good taste in arts.

And now with this painting, they'd been arguing about two abstract pieces of paintings and Iker said he liked the other one with the less gaudy tone better. But David had none of it.

"I like this one and I'll put it in my bedroom, you're gonna have to live with that." He smirked, his hand that held Iker's squeezed provokingly.

Well, Iker didn't mind that painting being in his line of sight, but he did mind that David seemed to expect him to practically live in his bedroom 24/7, which was a no. No, this wasn't what he expected from this relationship, not making love all the fucking time, of course!

"Then that's settled, I won't go to your room anymore."

David whirled on him. "It's your room then, that's settled." He smirked.

"What about your sudden obsession with all the paintings anyway?" Iker immediately changed the subject.

"I don't know, maybe it's because I appreciate how it can exhibit reality through the veil of brushes and colours, now that I understand." He shrugged. "Aren't you glad that you finally could make me appreciate your life interest?"

Iker snorted. "I'm glad that you eventually understand what you really want," he murmured. The British raised his brow.

"You're not talking about the paintings," he stated.

Iker rolled his eyes. "Not really, no."

David put his hand on Iker's cheek, thumb sliding across his skin. "I'm sorry it took so long.”

"Is it too much for your brain?" asked Iker. The Londoner laughed.

"Maybe."

"If you're that stupid again," Iker grumbled, stealthily kissed David's palm making the other smile widely before threatening accordingly, "I'm gonna kill you."

***

 **Xabi:** I know now what love is.

 **Gerard:** You do? Congratulations! So you can solve the deepest mystery of the universe, the million dollar question! Tell us! What is it?!

 **Xabi:** With my deepest apology, what I know can't be explained in words, you have to experience it yourself and feel it with your heart, that’s all I can say. And that’s why ‘love’ remains a mystery for mankind for as long as we are in this universe, it can’t be taught, and sometimes it can’t be told apart from lust, infatuation, or something else that disguises itself in the form of what you think is love. What’s worse, it doesn’t have a definite form! From what I’ve experienced combines with what I’ve heard from you guys, love comes in different shapes, various styles, with variant thousand problems along the way. There are a million ways to love so I guess there isn’t the same love twice. Each love will be special, one of a kind. When you really love someone, you'll understand. And I bet you all understand it by now, don’t you?

 **B:** Easier said than done, huh? It might not be difficult to fall in love with someone but that someone isn’t very easy to find.

 **Iker:** Oh, come on, Fernando! Don't tell us your story doesn't have a happy ending.

 **Gerard:** Would never believe him anyway. Look at how happy he seems today, come on!

 **Fernando:** Why would I be happy?!

Fernando blushed.

 **Gerard:** Because you'd just got laid, that's why!

 **Xabi:** Gerard, let us hear your story. Out of everyone, I've been worried about yours the most.

 **Gerard:** Well-

 **G:** Let me tell you one thing, lying to yourself is good to no one.

 **Fernando:** Who are you now?

 **G:** It's Lionel and I'm Gerard's ex. Or that's to say, I'm Gerard's substitute for the one he really loves.

 **Iker:** Gotta say that that's awful.

 **H:** Not only on Gerard's side. I'm Cesc's ex and I'd faced the same problem. Both of them are selfish idiots who only thought about their own happiness, not together, but separately. And that's the problem because apparently they couldn't be happy without each other and they didn't even know it, not until everybody involved had been hurt to some extent. Lionel and I were just their tools to get over one another, which didn't succeed in anyway.

H shook his head disapprovingly.

 **H:** Never do that to anyone again, ever.

 **Cesc:** I'm really sorry, Robin.

 **Robin:** I'll forgive you...in the future but not now. I'm just too angry for all that has happened so fast just after we came back from Amsterdam. I hope you understand.

 **Gerard:** Those were all my faults, not Cesc. I'm sorry that this happened to the two of you, Lionel, Robin. We are really idiots.

 **Cesc:** I think both of us are to blame. We're sorry that we dragged innocents like you guys into this with us. The causes of all these are because we'd never cleared this shit up between us and kept assuming until it broke.

 **Fernando:** Meanwhile, I who tried to clear shits up with someone by talking very directly to him also had to wait for more than three months until he actually understood what I said and came around.

 **I:** Are you saying that I'm stupid?

 **Fernando:** No, Daniel, you are as smart as a mussel. It took you long enough, though.

 **Xabi:** So he did compromise eventually?

 **Fernando:** If not yet, I'd make him do that myself.

 **Daniel:** Aww, angry freckly Spaniard is scary.

 **Xabi:** I guess everyone has a happy ending then.

 **J:** Seriously, you're not gonna say anything to me?

 **Xabi:** Oh-

 **Gerard:** And who are you, exactly?

 **J:** I've done all the hard works without even having a real scene in the story and you don't even say cheers to me!

 **K:** For Christ's sake, Jamie, no need to make a scene! I'm gonna give you proper thanks, alright? How about Thai? I know a decent restaurant around here. Or you want something else? Actually you can just pick and tell me.

 **Jamie:** Thai is fine, but all I've ever wanted is an air time...

 **Xabi:** You're having it now, one minute before the curtain falls.

 **Jamie:** Oh, great. And hello, Xabi. Fancy meeting you here. I guess we have a chance to speak properly with each other eventually.

 **Xabi:** Hello, Jamie. I guess we have a lot of things to talk about.

 **Jamie:** Oh, yes, baby, we do.

 **Steven:** Hey, stop flirting with Xabi!

 **Jamie:** Sorry, mate. Old habits die hard.

 

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedbacks make my world. :) Please let me know whether you like the story or not; I appreciate every bit of your opinions.
> 
> Thank you. ;)


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